


Antecedent

by Prudential



Series: Heart of War [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prudential/pseuds/Prudential
Summary: Heroes are forged from the ordinary through great heat and pressure. Before there was Eden Prime, there was Elysium. Before surviving the Omega 4, she survived Akuze. Before leading the charge on the Reapers she stormed the caves of Torfan. This is the story of the career that shaped Commander Shepard into the savior of the galaxy.





	1. State Your Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Survival](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16288901) by [Prudential](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prudential/pseuds/Prudential). 



> This story is set as a prequel of sorts to my other story, Survival, and will follow the same Shepard as that story. I hope you enjoy it!

" **If you would please state your name, for the record, ma'am."**

Uncomfortably stark colors composed everything in the room around her, silently conveying the impression of sterility and cold efficiency. The few furnishings the room had were all angular in design, and of matching bleak colors. The woman sitting in front of her dressed in a way that seemed to compliment the room, wearing the sharp and perfectly fitted uniform of a Systems Alliance Medical Officer with pale yellow accents. She had close cropped brown hair, cut so close to her shoulders that one couldn't be sure whether or not it was able to touch her shoulders. She looked to be in her late twenties, though her face was coated in a near-uniform layer of makeup that betrayed a desire to maintain perpetual youthfulness. Her lips were curved into a smile that made he—

" **Miss Shepard?"**

Shepard's contemplation was broken by those two words, and her attention was gathered from the scattered analysis of her surroundings to a single focus on the doctor in front of her.

" **Lieutenant."**  Shepard's voice was cool, but without a hint of contempt or arrogance.

" **Pardon?"**

" **My rank, it is Lieutenant. The proper address would be** _ **Lieutenant Shepard.**_ **"**  Her lips were pressed together in an indecipherable line, and Shepard's icy blue eyes were locked confidently with the doctor's. She still lacked any arrogance or contempt, but she also didn't offer any sense that she was apologetic for correcting the doctor.

Realization dawned on the doctor, and she seemed both amused and taken aback by the correction.  **"My apologies, Lieutenant Shepard."**

Shepard didn't dwell anymore on the doctor's fopaux of foregoing her rank, and returned to the doctor's original question.  **"My name is Second Lieutenant Jessica Valerie Shepard."**

Relief washed over the older woman at their return to her required line of questioning.  **"Thank you Lieutenant. Also for the record, do you know where you are, presently?"**

" **Titov** **Systems Alliance Armed Forces MedCenter, Arcturus Station."**

" **Indeed. Can you tell me the current date?"**

" **November 2177... The fourteenth I believe."**

" **Can you tell me how long you've been in the Alliance's Armed Forces?"**

" **I enlisted SAMC on April eleventh, 2172. That's a little over five years ago."**

" **Your memory is clearly very crisp, Lieutenant. I have one final question to establish our baseline, but it's two pronged: can you tell me when you first entered Alliance Special Operations, also known as the 'N' program? And can you tell me when you first came under the direct command of Admiral Steven Hackett?"**

" **I went through ICT in 2174, and was awarded N1 status. As for my work with Admiral Hackett, I was transferred directly to his command last year in 2176."**

" **Do you remember the event which prompted your transfer?"**

" **The Skyllian Blitz."**

* * *

**Illyria, Elysium**

**2176**

Even from behind the walls of the city's garrison, Shepard could tell Illyria wasn't a city that belonged in the Verge. Shepard and her fellow marines had been running patrols and training exercises in the Verge for months now, part of the 103rd's focus on extreme situational preparedness. The little they'd seen of Elysium's capital city during their flight revealed it to be nothing like the rest of the Verge. The marines had largely been to single-settlement colonies during their deployment, and even the colonies with multiple settlements were almost entirely composed of prefab modular units. Illyria, on the other hand, boasted actual towers of glass and steel that sparkled in the afternoon sun. It's streets were well maintained and were often even decorated with local plants, or those from Earth.

Her unit was composed of fifty marines, including the unit Commander Cory Phelps, and they'd arrived only hours earlier for some much needed leave. Shepard could hardly remember the last time that she'd been able to go multiple days in nothing but civvies, and the thought of a week away from stiff uniforms delighted the young woman. Presently she wore a gray shirt with SAMC printed on the front in faded letters. She'd gotten it early in her marine career, evident by the faded ink and the way it pinched tight in a few places that she'd bulked up; Shepard had been a much smaller woman when she enlisted. To complete the 'trying to look casual' look she wore a pair of faded beige cargo pants. They were worn threadbare around the knees, and faded stains were splattered indiscriminately around the legs from years of wear.

" **Aye Jess, you coming with us?"**  The voice belonged to Shepard's closest friend in the unit, Gunnery Sergeant Keir Burgess. She was a few inches shorter than Shepard, with shoulder length brown hair and a squared off jaw. She and Shepard were good friends, and better combat partners. The two could predict the other's actions in real time during combat.

" **Who's 'us', and where are 'we' going?"**  She had an idea who 'us' referred to, but where the marines might find them in the sprawling city was anyone's guess.

The younger marine offered a smile and continued walking,  **"Hare, Romano, Pask, and myself. We were debating a few different places, but Romano kept talking about how cheap the drinks are at Ashimai Halls, so I think we're going there. If you wanna come, that is."**

Shepard grinned and dropped her gaze with a shake of her head. She doubted that the idea to go to one of Illyria's 'looser' casinos was solely Ary Romanos', but the idea sounded fun nonetheless.  **"You had me at 'cheap drinks', it means I'll have more of my dwindling savings left to blow on Ashimai's tables."**

Shepard followed as the other woman turned sharply and began heading for the small gathering of three marines under a nearby tree.  **"I'm sure Alexis could have a field day psychoanalyzing that statement alone."**

Shepard just let loose a pained groan and smothered her face in her hands exasperatedly.  **"I'm going to kick your ass one of these days."**

" **Didn't you say she was going to come out here to see you during our leave?"**

" **That's what she keeps saying, yeah."**

" **You're the least excited newlywed I've ever met, Shep. Aren't** _ **you**_ **the one that proposed to** _ **her**_ **?"**

" **That last thing—y'know, about kicking your ass—I wasn't kidding."**

Burgess gripped her chin with thumb and forefinger in a contemplative pose, her voice feigning sophistication,  **"Hmmm, it does seem you're going through the motions of what you think a good girlfriend does, Mrs. Shepard. My professional recommendation is that you stop being a dumbass, but unfortunately you already went through with a rushed wedding so that isn't an option anymore."**

Shepard spun her upper body and smacked Burgess' shoulder with a quick punch, causing the girl to teeter for a step as they drew nearer to the tree.  **"Why the fuck do I hang out with you?"**

Burgess just shrugged,  **"Because I told you that you were being a dumbass at the time too, but threw you a hell of a bachelorette party—and still managed to look sober for the wedding the next day."**

" **Something like that."**  Shepard muttered. They were close enough to hear the conversation of the other gathered marines now, and close enough that they could also be heard.

" **Sar'nts."**  Corporal Jarrold Hare sat on the ground in front of them, back against the tree they were all using for ahde. He was the only enlisted left amongst their group, and presently he was picking his fingernails with a small pocket knife.  **"We ready to get moving, or were y'all planning on playing poker under this tree?"**

* * *

Ashimai Halls was only a kilometer from the garrison, intentionally so, and it'd only cost a few credits each for the gathered marines to get there via skycar taxi. The casino didn't officially allow weapons inside, but their guards were instructed to treat Alliance servicemen with 'extra hospitality'—which translated into only giving them a slight visual inspection for weapons and letting them in if nothing was obvious. The policy wasn't born from any patriotism on the casino's part, but rather that they hoped it would attract more business from the ever-increasing presence of armed forces—which it did.

Shepard's sidearm was concealed in a holster fitted to the inside of her jacket, a trick shared by most of the others in her group. Only Hare had failed to properly conceal his sidearm, which meant his pistol had been confiscated and locked in a casino locker until he was ready to leave. The Corporal had loudly protested the confiscation, that was until one of the house's roaming cocktail waitresses had brought him a complimentary drink—then all earlier complaints were silenced.

The group had been inside Ashimai Halls for over 18 hours now, though not all of them had spent the whole time gambling. Early on the five marines had staked out a cluster of booths where they crashed, ate, drank, and sometimes slept. Shepard had spent most of her time there, since a few fast paced drinks and poorly timed bets had relieved her of all the credits she'd brought—though she was now very glad that she'd chosen to leave her bank card back in the barracks. She'd resigned herself to lounging in one of the booths, eating and drinking only what she could convince her friends to cover for her.

Where Shepard had failed in the day's gambling ventures, Pask and Romano both had seen early success and were presently elsewhere trying to rake a few more wins. Hare had disappeared an hour and a half ago, in tow of a stripper or escort, Shepard couldn't tell. Burgess was crashed on the other side of the booth from Shepard, a half-eaten slice of cold pizza in one hand and a warm glass of water in the other.

" **Keir,"**  Shepard's voice was hoarse from a night of laughing and shouting. A few moments of silence told Shepard that she'd been drowned out by the loud music of the casino, so she raised her voice and tried again.  **"Keir!"**  That got the other woman's attention, and she shifted in place to look at Shepard—some of her water splashed out of the glass onto her shoulder and Burgess let out a low growl.  **"I'm fucking starving, and I'm pretty sure I'd qualify for a medical discharge if I sleep on this couch much more. Wanna go get some food?"**

Burgess made a disapproving noise until her mouth was clear of the pizza she'd been chewing,  **"It feels way less nice when I know you're inviting me because you blew all your cash gambling."** With exaggerated effort Burgess sat up, washing down the dry pizza with a long gulp of her water.  **"But yeah I'm down. This pizza was way closer to edible when it was warm, anyways."**  She lazily tossed the slice in her hand to the greasy box it'd come from and stood up.

Shepard and Burgess hadn't reached the exit yet when the casino shuddered from a low tremor, and the thousand lights around the room blinked on and off a few times. Shepard shot Burgess a concerned look, though the latter waved her hand as if to dismiss any concerns,  **"I grew up on a colony, Jess. Things go bump and make weird noises sometimes. Probably nothing."**

" **Yeah... probably nothing."** Shepard's eyes were still darting around the busy casino floor for what might've shaken the building, but so far she'd come up with nothing. Resuming their earlier business the pair exited Ashimai Halls, Burgess steadily talking about where they could go to eat—though not a word she uttered made it into Shepard's ears. As soon as they'd stepped into the open she'd performed a habitual check of their surroundings, and her eyes were locked on something startling.

Above them she could make out the erratic movements of ships, fighters she thought, one always leading with another desperately in chase. At first she thought it might've been drills, and that explanation would've calmed her anxieties about the tremor, but she realized that wasn't the case—one by one the leading fighters were blown apart by those chasing. Even more concerning was that she could hear a distant thudding sound, one she couldn't quite place until she saw one of the ships break apart when it got too close to the ground—AA cannons.

Her hand was already in her pocket, reaching for comm to radio the garrison and ask what was happening, but she was interrupted before she could. A shrill alarm cut through the air around them, and was followed by the soft voice of a V.I.  _"Attention residents of Illyria, please proceed to a safe location or shelter. Please refrain from venturing out from your homes. Thank you."_

She pulled her comm out and switched it to the garrison frequency, she was going to get a report of what the hell was going on. Next to her Burgess was noticeably less comfortable than she'd been earlier, and her hand was resting on her sidearm.

' _Illyria Garrison, PFC Hendricks speaking.'_

" **This is Sergeant Jessica Shepard, I'm calling to see what the hell is going on—I can see what looks like a dogfight from where I am, and there's an emergency alarm going through the city."**

' _We are currently in a state of emergency, ma'am. Please proceed to a nearby safe location until we otherwise stated._

" **Fuck it."**  Shepard clicked the line off and switched to a direct line with their unit commander.

' _This is Phelps.'_ His voice was tense and sharp, meaning whatever was going on above was serious enough to stress their laid back unit commander.

" **Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Shepard. I'm about a klik away from the garrison with Burgess, Hare, Romano, and Pask. What's the situation?"**

' _That's the magic question. I can't seem to get a straight answer out of anyone here, but that's largely because I don't think anybody really knows yet. We've got a dozen unauthorized warships approaching planet right now, and twice as many fighters harrying the upper-orbit defenses. The warships dropped out pretty fast though, so I doubt that we're looking at final numbers. This is some kind of attack, but we don't have any confirmation on who is behind it.'_

" **Who are we suspecting, unconfirmed?"**

' _The make of these ships, combined with the strategies in play, heavily match recent Hegemony supported raids on Alliance colonies. I'd put money on batarians being in those warships.'_

" **Goddamnit. I'm on my way to your location now, sir. Shepard out."**

The line clicked off and left Burgess and Shepard alone in silence. Burgess had a tense look on her face, but she was unmoving.  **"Okay, I was wrong, this is serious. I'll go back in and get the others, you start heading for the garrison."**

With a nod Shepard turned to head for the garrison, but she stopped in her tracks. The marine sergeant turned and looked back at her friend, her face tense  **"Hey, Keir—keep yourself safe."**

" **Don't worry Jess, I'll see you at the garrison."**

That was all Shepard needed to hear. She departed the entrance of the casino at a brisk jog. The sooner she reached the garrison the sooner she was in proper armor, with proper weapons—and the sooner she could figure out what the hell was happening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Codex:
> 
> Rank Structure: Note: while the Marine Corps are technically a part of the Systems Alliance Navy, they have been allowed by High Command to retain some traditional rank titles. Sometimes a rank within the Marine Corps can bear multiple titles, owing to the common marine behavior of referring to certain ranks by historical names of equivalence. Such can be observed with the rank of 'Chief', in that marines will commonly switch between 'Chief' and 'Sergeant' along with the appropriate prefix (such as Gunnery, Operations, etc.). This can also be seen with the rank of 'Lieutenant Commander' and its traditional name of 'Major'.
> 
> The Navy rank structure is as follows:
> 
> Officers
> 
> Fleet Admiral
> 
> Admiral
> 
> Vice Admiral
> 
> Rear Admiral
> 
> Commodore
> 
> Captain
> 
> Commander
> 
> Lieutenant Commander
> 
> First Lieutenant
> 
> Second Lieutenant
> 
> Ensign
> 
> NCO
> 
> Operations Chief
> 
> Gunnery Chief
> 
> Service Chief
> 
> Enlisted
> 
> Specialist
> 
> Serviceman First Class
> 
> Serviceman Second Class
> 
> Serviceman
> 
> The Marine rank structure is as follows:
> 
> Officers
> 
> Field Marshal
> 
> General
> 
> Lieutenant General
> 
> Major General
> 
> Brigadier General
> 
> Captain
> 
> Commander
> 
> Lieutenant Commander / Major
> 
> First Lieutenant
> 
> Second Lieutenant
> 
> Ensign
> 
> NCO
> 
> Operations Chief / Sergeant
> 
> Gunnery Chief / Sergeant
> 
> Service Chief / Sergeant
> 
> Enlisted
> 
> Corporal
> 
> Lance Corporal
> 
> Private First Class
> 
> Private


	2. The Blitz

-Shepard felt the frightful cadence of her heart in her chest while she ran through Illyria's vacant streets. She was trying her hardest to mentally compartmentalize what was happening around her, to isolate the peaceful city that she'd seen the day before, and to forget that she was supposed to be on leave right now. The fear of uncertainty, the surprise of this attack, those were emotions she could feel later—right now the only thing that would be beneficial to Jessica was if she could focus and take up the defensive.

Her compartmentalization only worked so well, and she could feel her hands trembling even as they swayed with her run, but not from the exertion. Her knees and ankles ached from the sudden burst of athletics in what definitely didn't constitute athletic footwear, but she pushed that aside. She could see the garrison from here, but as she quickened her pace to reach it faster she felt her left foot plant against the curb unevenly. Her ankle rolled underneath her, and a sharp pain radiated up her leg, causing her to slow for a second. She kept her pace to a jog still, and once she was satisfied that the ankle was merely inflamed rather than damaged she picked her pace back up, face wincing at the rhythmic pain.

Shepard approached the garrison's entrance, it's hulking metal gate already open but roped off by an arm reaching across the entrance. Standing nearby was a pair of MPs, likely responsible for checking IDs and controlling entrance. As she drew closer one of them stepped towards her with a datapad in hand,  **"Authorized personnel only past this point, ma'ma. ID?"**

Jessica was short of breath from the sprint to get to this point, and already she could feel the white-hot pain radiating up from her ankle. In a breathy voice she hissed out,  **"Sergeant Jessica Shepard, MARSOC—103rd Division."**  While she spoke, she pulled out a worn leather wallet and slipped her ID out, offering it to the MP.

If he'd recognized her name from their arrival the day before, or even that the 103rd was present at all, he didn't show it. With a blank expression he slid the ID into his datapad, waited a few seconds, and nodded at her,  **"All clear to enter, sar'nt."**

The garrison felt unusually calm, though she expected it was because most of the soldiers stationed here had already been dispatched to one of the defensive positions. Of the few fast-paced officers she saw crossing between buildings, none of them matched the appearance of Lieutenant Phelps. Jessica raised her left arm, and with a flicker her omni-tool automatically materialized along it. She dialed in on Lieutenant Phelps' frequency and waited. A few seconds later the hurried voice of her Unit Commander, along with the roaring static of background noise, came over the line.  _'This is Phelps.'_

Video wasn't available on the line, but Shepard could tell he was under strain from the sound of his voice.  **"LT, I'm back at base—where are you?"**

' _I moved out to defend zone four, it's getting swarmed—but that's not where I need you. Eight is taking it pretty hard too, and we'll be fine here. Take two teams and move to reinforce eight."_

* * *

 

" **What would you describe as your rationale behind disobeying a direct order?"**

" **Excuse me?"**  A sudden heat rushed to Jessica's face, and her mouth pinched into a scowl. Her posture stiffened, and her previously measured expressions lapsed to allow a glimpse at a new rage underneath.

" **At this point Lieutenant Phelps was your Commanding Officer, correct? And he gave you a direct order?"**

" **What are you trying to get at? Are you trying to shake me, or get under my skin? What do you want me to say"**  Her anger grew at the doctor's patronizing tone, and Jessica became aware that she was gripping the arm rest of her chair so tight that her knuckles had gone pale. Slowly she released her grip and settled for grinding her teeth together subtly.

" **Lieutenant my only job here is to understand your thought processes, and rationale. All I'm asking is, had you decided at the time he gave the order that you were going to disobey it?"**

" **No, I had not."**  Her voice was as sharp as an arctic wind, and her body had gone wholly rigid in the slimly padded seat she sat in.

* * *

 

" **Sar'nt!"**  Private Stanway 'Goose' Goslee was the leftmost of five marines gathered around a circular table at the center of the situation room. The lights in the small room were dimmed, leaving the marines' faces illuminated mostly by the ghostly blue glow of the table's holographic projector. The other four marines that Shepard had paged were Corporal Marston Abner, Lance Corporal Kyrillus 'Killer' Killman, PFC Cara Sprouse, and Corporal Kallie 'Saint' Brainerd. They were already wearing their hardsuits, sans webbing and helmet, and each looked to her expectantly upon her arrival.

" **We got orders, ma'am?"**  this from Saint.

" **Yeah, LT is sending us to zone eight to reinforce its AA cannon."**

" **Where's the LT at?"**

" **He's at zone four, the one presently taking it the worst, but he said that eight is predicted to take a beating pretty soon—and the tac readout agrees with him."** The image floating above the table flickered into a simplified view of the city, with each of the zones marked by their numerical designation.

" **The LT is sending us to the second hottest zone? Classic butter bar."**  Abner's arms were crossed, and she could feel the hesitance in his voice.

" **The LT is confident he's got everything under control at four, he wants us at eight for when shit hits the fan."**  He hadn't told her that at all, but she assumed he had to—and she knew that telling the marines otherwise wouldn't instill them with goodwill towards their assignment.

" **Aye aye ma'am."**

It didn't take long for them to get their gear, and by the time Shepard had managed to change into her own armor the five of them were already waiting in the prep area for her. The six of them filing towards the troop transport was a hell of a sight—six fully armed and armored alliance marines, their matte black MARSOT armor a striking distinction from the typical blue of Alliance soldiers.

The troop transport left for them was a drab green truck, with an open-air bed meant to be its 'troop bay'. It wasn't a new model, but Shepard was left a little impressed by the six massive tires on each side of it. The vehicle looked suited to rolling over parked skycars if it came to it.  **"Damn… that's a lot of fuckin' fighters heading for there."**

Sprouse's musings were directed towards the distant horizon, where she could make out what definitely qualified as  _a lot of fuckin' fighters_.  **"I think that's zone four."**  Four  _was_ getting rushed, but she didn't have eyes on-site to contradict Phelps' call—and he'd given direct orders.  _Trust the Lieutenant._  No matter how much Shepard repeated it to herself she couldn't quite banish the underlying concern in her gut—which was only worsened by the disparity of experience between them. Phelps had gone to university, where he'd participated in ROTC and received his commission. Shepard, on the other hand, had gone to a recruiter the day she turned 18 and had been boots on the ground ever since.

Despite her anxieties, she did her best to focus on the mission at hand—if she didn't her distraction might get marines killed. Their ride through Illyria was largely uneventful anyways, and for most of the ride she stole glances back at four.

Zone eight was a small position to defend. The AA cannon was located within the perimeter of the city's wall and had a thin maze of gray concrete walls surrounding it. Neatly organized around the cannon was a network of anti-flak and anti-infantry turrets, all of which were firing as fast as they could to deter the enemy advancement. Every few seconds their high-pitched popping would be silenced by the deafening crack of the AA firing, and from the sky would fall a downed freighter or fighter. Standing around the cannon, dipping between defensive ramparts, were the few marines already present. Their erratic and nervous movements, and the increasing swarm of batarians they fought to ward off, eased some of Shepard's apprehension at her orders.

" **Well shit sar'nt."**  Abner was leaning over the side of the transport to get a better look,  **"We got a lot of fuckin' fighters too. I take back my complaints."**

" **Yeah, the sitrep I got says the batarians are touching down just past our turret range with their troop transports, and they're trying to rush the walls with some success."**

" **Don't worry ma'am, we're real good't killin' blinks when they on foot, ain't we Killer**?" The Corporal shot a toothy grin at his fellow marine, but only received a bemused chuckle in return. The slick confidence in Abner's voice told Jessica that he was  _hoping_ he'd get to kill some of the batarian soldiers. She pinched her eyes shut and silently prayed that the marine wouldn't pull some stupid heroics during the fight and put himself—or worse, the unit—in danger.

Shepard was suddenly very grateful for her sealed armor between her and the whipping winds as the transport slowed. The marines filed out, and Sprouse was the last one out of the transport—she had almost fallen out as it lurched to a stop ungracefully. Jessica was on her feet now, charging towards the cannon's defensive perimeter, and she could feel the pain pulsing back up from her ankle.  _Fuck, that shit needs to take a back seat really soon._

The defense was Shepard's least favorite type of engagement; all stop and go, high intensity followed by long pauses of stillness. Even when the enemy wasn't surging the walls there was no quiet to be had with the uneven cadence of the cannons around her, but she could feel her body tiring every time the combat slowed to a standstill. The monotony of the fight was broken when Shepard heard the soft chime of her omni-tool telling her that she was being called, and the smooth face of Keir Burgess jumped to life from her forearm.

' _Jess, I've got Hare, Romano, 'n Pask back at the garrison now, but it's a ghost town. None of the 103_ _rd_ _is around here, and I can't get Phelps on the comm. You've got a better understanding of what's going on, where do you want us?'_

" **If you can get your hands on a tactical map of the city, I've got two teams at zone eight right now."**  The words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. She felt like telling Keir to backup zone four with Phelps, but he'd sent her here and this was where he felt the threat was **. "Phelps ordered us here because he was afraid this was the next zone to be swamped, so I'd say come back us up."**

' _Copy that, we're on the move.'_

The click of static over the line told her that Burgess had cut the line, leaving Shepard to the task at hand.  **"We've got batarians inbound on the ridge, reading 144…145…146 degrees."**

She lurched into action and began sighting her Avenger downrange as best she could at the designated coordinates. It was unlikely the rifle would be as effective as one of the snipers' rifles, but if the enemies got close enough she would bog them down in suppressive fire while the sharpshooters picked them off. She was thinking that the first of them just might be wandering into her effective range, but her attention was stolen by a thundering sound behind her. Shepard dropped down to a crouch to avoid taking fire from the enemies she'd been targeting and turned towards the source of the sound.

In the distance, over the horizon of Illyria's shorter outer buildings, Jessica could see a thick black plume of smoke coming from where zone four had been,  **"Fuck, what just happened?"**

" **Hell'f I know."**  This from Saint,  **"Didn't see it happen, only heard the bigass crash."**

She hadn't expected a sitrep from her marine, and was already pulling up what readouts she could get of the city's defensive strength. While the readout was coming online she tried to open a channel with the lieutenant for a sitrep but the line clicked busy for a few seconds and cut out, but the pale orange scene on her omni-tool told her all she needed to know. There had only been a dozen marines with a single IFV at zone four. Now the zone's AA cannon flickered red on her readout, indicating significant damage, but worse was the number of marines reported as unaccounted for.

Saint was looking at her expectantly, her shoulder leaned against the same wall Shepard was using for cover as the marine popped another thermal clip into her rifle.  **"How's it lookin' ma'am?"**

" **It isn't good. Their AA is offline right now, and if it doesn't get some relief it's going to go down for good. Over half their marines are reporting unaccounted for, and all their support turrets are down."**

The other woman let out a low whistle and shook her head,  **"Goddamnit LT, you dumb motherfucker."**

She was still for a few moments longer while her eyes flicked along the readings from the other zone, her mind trying to work out a tactical solution. Slowly Jessica slid down the wall, her head turning to steal a look back at their own defense vector. The marines on the wall were mopping up what was left of the batarians she'd been sighting down on before, and the fresh remains of a downed transport smoldered on the hillside.  **"Fuck it Saint, we're going over there—grab Goose."**

" **Aye, Goose! Get your ass over here, we're goin' to zone four!"**  Goslee wasn't far behind them, his voice sounding far too excited as he whooped loudly.

The transport that had brought them there was gone now, and the only vehicles left were a skycar and an M29 Grizzly. She hesitated to take the M29 from her marines here, but she was taking Goose and Saint to a chaotic warzone and the thought of arriving without armor made her gut do flips,  **"We're taking the grizzly, mount up."**  The IFV had room for a second passenger in the cockpit with Shepard, but the two marines both opted for the troop bay, likely to jump out as fast as possible once they arrived. The unsightly transport kicked and shook as it roared to life, and then jumped forward with no warning when Shepard goosed the accelerator. The M29 was a work horse, with armor thick enough to tank anything the batarians were likely to throw at them and then some.

The closer the marines got to zone four, the more confident Shepard was in her decision. The windows of nearby buildings twinkled with orange reflections of the distant flames, and she could hear the never ceasing roar of small arms from the AA's defensive perimeter. She tried again to hail the anyone in the area on Alliance channels,  **"This is Sergeant Shepard approaching zone four, does anyone read me?"** Shepard sped the grizzly up and let out an angered growl at the hauntingly silent line.

She didn't have time to think, or to shout back a warning to the two marines that were with her—she only had time to act. With her eyes pinched shut the Grizzly smacked into the zone's outer-most defensive wall. The cockpit was filled with a deafening sound, stirred by the blaring alarms of the Grizzly from the impact, but she could tell from the lurching that they had pushed through the wall and into the war zone beyond. Concrete continued to fall on the Grizzly's roof and her shoulder ached from the biting seatbelt against it. All the pain and noise was periphery to the sight of the marines desperately holding their own through the dusty cracked M29 viewport.

All around her were strewn the remains of the dead, mostly Alliance, and she thought she could make out the mangled corpse of a batarian fighter at the epicenter of the devastation, one of the AA Cannons cleaved-off barrels protruding from it.  _That_ had been what she heard and had been the break the batarians needed to push their offensive. One of the fighter pilots must have intentionally crashed into the cannon or happened to fall that way after it was shot down—either way had the same effect.

Drawing Shepard back into reality was the pattering of gunfire against the Grizzly's hull, her arrival having shifted the batarians' attention away from the pinned down marines. She pushed open the cockpit's hatch and rolled out, using the IFV's bulk as cover from the enemies **. "Valkyrie squad, report in."**

" **Valk-one here,"**  came the tense voice of Brainerd, followed by  **"Valk-two here,"**  from Goslee. She could tell the marines were shaken up from the crash, and she likely  _should_ have warned them, but she'd panicked under her stress, and focused as best she could on the mission—a failing on her part.

Her hand fumbled for the side of the cockpit until it found the latch for the door. She desperately pulled at it and then nearly fell out of the IFV when it did swing open. Her shoulder pulsed with renewed pain as she hung caught in the seatbelt. She blindly slapped at the side of the seat until she found the release for her harness and squeezed it. She tumbled out of the IFV with all her restraints gone, and only brely stuck the landing with her good ankle enough to stay on her feet. There was a new roar present on the battlefield, which she could identify as the sound of Saint's LMG laying down suppressive fire. Shepard pressed herself against the Grizzly's scarred hull and slid towards her two marines.

They were set up in a strategic stance, Saint laying down fire on the enemy position while Goose picked off targets when they peeked up to fire on while Goose picked individual targets off with his sniper rifle. **"Did either of you get a look at the Grizzly's turret when we came through the wall?"**  Her voice was hoarse, and she realized that she'd been unaware of how dry her mouth was.

" **Yeah, shit took a beating when you ran into a fuckin' wall, but I think it outta still be functional."**

" **Perfect."** She ground her teeth together in determination leapt into the Grizzly's open troop compartment. The turret was set into the roof, with a swiveling gunner seat affixed to a support pole that ran from the deck to the roof. The setup was less sophisticated and comfortable than the newer M35s, but it got the job done. Shepard settled herself into the gunner's set and pulled the controls closer, her eyes squinting to make out targets through the dusty viewfinder.  **"Goose, paint the friendlies with a laser."**

" **Affirmative."**  A moment of silence passed until Shepard was able to see the bright light of a laser designator swinging across the battlefield to mark the Alliance Marines. She squeezed tight on the trigger in her right hand, bringing a spray of MG fire on the batarian position. With her left hand she eased the 155mm turret's sights around, and a second squeeze brought the Grizzly's main weapon online. She could feel the whole vehicle buck underneath her from the recoil, and across the battlefield the battlefield there was a splintering explosion from the piece of debris that the batarians had been cowering behind.

The biggest threat that Illyria faced wasn't the foot soldiers she was slaying though, it was the fighters that could slip in through the hole in the AA-net. A pair of batarian fighters were already approaching over the horizon, clearly aimed for her. Jessica brought the turret around, slowly sighting it in the path of one of the fighters, and squeezed the trigger. The slug clipped through one of the fighter's wings and elicited a trailing plume of smoke. While the turret cycled a new round in the fighters drew closer, almost within their weapons range. She fired the cannon again and this time it hit the fighter directly on its nose. The high velocity round punched straight through the thin aircraft and crumpled its whole front end.

The second fighter was drawing close enough now that Brainerd could pepper it with her LMG, though to little use. The M29 immediately began shuddering as it was shot from the fighter's fixed front cannons, though none pierced the armor yet. Shepard fired another desperate round from the cannon, cleaving the wing off the last remaining fighter and sent it into a dive.

The sudden entrance of the Grizzly stalled the battle into a stale skirmish. Shepard was forced to abandon the Grizzly, but with its fierce cannon she'd bought them some breathing room and had pressured the batarians into digging in for a long attack. The remaining marines from the cannon's original defenders were holding out in a makeshift trench, but she only counted them to be four in number. Shepard assessed the wary group of marines as she drew closer, her face wincing at how battered they looked.  **"I'm Ops Chief Jessica Shepard, with the 103** **rd** **—are there any other survivors**?" She crouched down behind their cover, and one of the marines rose to face her.

" **Gunny Jacob Alverez ma'am, there's a pair of techs I saw taking cover over'ere."**  He jerked his head towards a large pile of debris near the cannon,  **"That's it ma'am. I'm highest rankin' one of our survivors, this is Service Chief Connor Moroney, Corporal Luke Pollard, and Corporal John Watson."**  He motioned to each of the marine as he spoke, but her stomach dropped as soon as he indicated they were the only marines.

" **What about a Lieutenant Cory Phelps? He's part of the 103** **rd** **MARSOC unit on leave here, and he was part of the initial defense for zone four."**

" **Yea ma'am… I know the Lieutenant."** His mouth drew back into a thin line of guilt,  **"He was right next to the cannon when the fighter fuckin came down, saw the debris knock him down an' maim him. Blinks put 'em down during their charge, they put down any of the wounded they found…"**

" **Shit."**  Shepard turned her head to see who had bitten off the curse behind her, and saw that Goose was crouched by her and intently listening to the marines.  **"The LT is dead?"**

The marine, Alverez as he'd introduced himself, had been uncomfortable enough delivering the news the first time, so now he simply nodded. Jessica chewed the side of her mouth nervously and her mind worked out a plan of action.  **"With Phelps out that leaves you in charge Sar'nt."**

Shepard's jaw tightened down, her teeth reflexively grinding together and pinching the bit of her cheek she'd been chewing on. With the soft taste of blood in her mouth she just nodded at him,  **"Yeah, I just worked that out too."**


	3. The Defense of Illyria

The fight to defend Illyria proved to be harder fought than Shepard had initially hoped. Their attackers weren't just a few unorganized pirates or raiders, no they were waves of them, organized and well-armed. Despite this, the realization of how hard they were having to fight wasn't present anywhere in Jessica Shepard's mind at the time. It was hardly the first time she'd been in a combat situation, and these weren't the worst military losses she'd seen—but the addition of military and civilian infrastructure made this much worse anytime there was any major destruction. The hardships she witnessed and the draining struggle to hold the line both were still weighing on her, but somewhere else in her mind, an emotional and sensitive side to her that could be dealt with later—right now she simply didn't have the time to stop and break down.

The first half hour upon arriving at Zone 4 was hell, since the AA Cannon was offline from the damage it sustained. After the engineers were able to resurrect the defensive emplacement, though, none of the raiding fighter craft were able to get close enough to take a shot at them. Better was that the troop transports couldn't get close and were either blown away or had to land in the distance—within range of their snipers. Still an occasional squad would make it as far as the breach in the wall, but she had enough marines to hold it. She'd been in command of Zone 4's defenses for two and a half hours now, and still there had hardly been a slow-up in the attack with no reinforcements in sight.

" **Shep, I've got everything in place—on the move now, where do you want me?"**  Burgess had radioed Shepard about half an hour prior with a plan to mobilize capable citizens into a defensive militia with the available arms from the garrison. Shepard had given her the go ahead on the plan, and now it seemed to be coming to fruition.

Before Shepard could reply to the Burgess a voice cut in, layered in frustration and impatience.  **"That's no question, Sar'nt Major we're gonna need relief over here in 8. Shit's getting hot and we're** _ **going**_ **to get swamped."**  The voice belonged to Corporal Abner.

Shepard's words were caught in her throat, not having expected to be cut off by the Corporal. She suppressed a frustrated sigh at being interrupted but focused on the task at hand. She turned to look at their defenses, and already she could see Saint shaking her head briskly to imply she didn't think they could do without the reinforcements. Shepard set her jaw in frustration,  **"No can-do Corporal, zone 4 needs militia forces."**

She had expected the line to go dead out of frustration, but instead she got the enflamed and angered voice of a young Corporal,  **"Bullshit Sar'nt Major, we lost our IFV and there's way more of them out there. We're about to get fuckin' swamped, you're si—"**

" **Corporal—"** Shepard snapped, keeping her voice a degree away from shouting,  **"We've got a bigass hole in the wall and half our AA doesn't work. Keir, I need those reinforcements over here.** _ **Shepard Out.**_ **"**

Standing behind her Saint had her lips pursed, her hand covering her chin and part of her mouth.  **"I'm sorry about Abner ma'am—"**

Shepard shook her head, clasping the marine on the shoulder as she passed.  **"You've got nothing to apologize for Saint, Abner is the one that doesn't know how to close his goddamn mouth."**

That brought a laugh out of the Corporal, who fell in step behind Shepard as the latter returned to the combat area of Zone 4.  **"I know that wasn't an easy call to make, nobody wants to feel like you're condemning people you know to death, but I saw eight and I saw four. Abner hasn't reported any wall breaches or cannon damage, which means there probably isn't… from what the tactical displays show, we're the ones that can't hold out without reinforcements."**

It was a kind statement for Brainerd to make, but Shepard wasn't ready to delve into those feelings, let alone expose them, just yet. She just shook her head, a somewhat false smile covering her lips,  **"Don't worry about that, I know we need the troops. I'm just not looking forward to bringing him in line later."**

* * *

" **Do you think that's a flaw of yours as an Officer? If you'd weighed Abner's request with more urgency or legitimacy, then perhaps things would have happened differently?"**

" **What the hell kind of question is that?"**  Shepard was angry now, her hands gripping the armrests of the chair until her knuckles turned white.  **"When I'm on the battlefield, each decision is do or die. I don't have time to second guess my decisions like that."**

" **But if you** _ **had,**_ **you might have sent the militia forces elsewhere. Do you regret your decision?"**

" **That was over a year ago."**

" **That wasn't my question Lieutenant."**

" **What the hell would you ask something like that for?"**

" **Do you regret the order Lieutenant?"**

" **No."**  The word was venomous, thrown out like a dagger—and like such it killed that line of the interview.

* * *

" **Move, move, move!"**  Shepard was darting away from where she'd just been standing, her hand gripping out and grabbing the webbing of a nearby militiaman and dragging him faster with her. It'd been an hour since the militia had arrived, and she was glad that she'd decided to bring them here—they might not've been able to hold the breach had the militia not been present.

There was an explosion behind her, where Shepard had been darting from, that sent flames, dirt, and rocks kicking up in every direction. The concussive force of the blast sent Shepard and the man she'd been dragging along tumbling to the ground, but with no actual wounds she was able to rebound rather quickly back to her feet.

" **We've got a beachhead establishing over here!"**  The urgent cry came from Pask, across the battlefield from where Shepard was. She could see what he was talking about, the advancing raiders had managed to get one of their vehicles far enough in that it could be used for a defensive emplacement. Enough of them were in and around it that they were able to provide effective suppressive fire while guarding themselves.

" **Oh fuck no."**  Shepard snarled, her eyes pinching shut to focus. Around her arms materialized the brilliant blue corona of biotic energy, and it seemed to sarge in the direction of her focus. Extending her arms and then ripping them backward, Shepard sent waves of biotic energy against their position. First everything there became weightless, floating about before it was violently condensed and thrown—killing all those in its wake.

" **Sar'nt Major, do you copy? This is Corporal Abner, over."**

Shepard snorted an amused sound as she ducked down behind a pile of rubble they used for cover.  **"This is Shepard, over."**

Abner replied quickly,  **"We're getting swarmed over here, they're managing to get over the wall. I need reinforcements and at least one vehicle."**

 _Fuck._ It was all Shepard could do to keep from biting the words aloud and Abner's persistent nagging. She brought up the tactical display once more on her omni-tool, eyes flitting across the holographic screen to see if anything had changed. Unfortunately for Abner's case, it seemed the earlier projected levels of attackers had remained consistent, and she still felt they could hold out. As she was checking she was nearly thrown from her position, as a nearby shoulder-launched missile blew away a swath of what had been her cover.

" **Negative Corporal, we don't have the men or the armor to spare. Shepard Over."**

" **Sarge,"**  Abner panted into the mic, whether he omitted the rest of her rank or it just came out as an inaudible breath she wasn't sure.  **"We're gonna be swamped in a few minutes here, they're climbing up at rates we can't keep up with."**

Irritated at his insistence, Shepard cut the line and looked over her shoulder towards the battle at hand. Her mixture of marines and militia had managed to hold the line to the AA Cannon, and prevent further damage to it, meaning that for now they were only having to deal with those who were able to land in the distance and trek it in.

She saw that they were still pressing their attack though, with shielded units charging a vanguard at her. Her biotics still hot from the fresh usage, she swung her arms about and called upon the blue wave of energy again. The soldiers' shields were ripped from their hands, some even suffering strikes from the shields as they soared through the air and away from their owners.

With the coming Vanguard dealt with for now, Shepard darted across the chaotic battle field towards the other end of the wall's breach. She leaned a shoulder against the wall for rest while she popped out a cooked clip from her rifle and raised it to put another clip in. The brick wall erupted into shards, each of them thrown away form the wall amidst Shepard's body. She hit the ground shoulder first, her body continuing to roll even once she'd touched down. She could hear the blaring alarms of her HUD warning that she'd been injured here or there—which she could already feel.

The soft areas of her armor that'd covered swaths of her right arm were gone, with only mangled shreds remaining around the edges to show it'd ever been there. Large areas of Shepard's pale white skin were exposed, though most of them were slicked in fresh red blood. She ground her teeth together as she wriggled over freshly-created rubble, some of it still smoldering and burning to the touch.  **"Fuck!"**  She cried out, finally flipping over onto her back once she was behind the blown out remains of what'd been a roadblock at one point. With her left hand she erratically clawed at her right arm, tearing away some of the still-burning material, and slapping on some warm medi-gel.

She rolled over onto her left side somewhat, enough for her right arm to blindly grab at where her rifle was supposed to be—only to find an empty slot on her tri-harness. Her eyes focused outward a little and found that her assault rifle had been blown from her harness, had landed amidst the debris, and looked like part of the stock and firing assembly had melted away.  **"Absolutely my fucking luck."**  She slapped at her thigh, feeling for her sidearm holster, and found that her Carnifex was still strapped to her side. Pulling the pistol out she checked the charge level, and nodded approval at its full indicator. She leveled the pistol down range and took three shots, each kicking back at her with immense recoil, and each leaving an enemy dead.

" **Valkyrie 6, this is Valkyrie 6 Romeo."**  The voice belonged to her radio officer, the normal cool-toned man sounding even worried.  **"Zone Eight was keeping scheduled check ins, but they've fallen off. A few brief transmissions have come through, but they're all either static or screaming and gunfire followed by static. Romeo over."**

The message apparently went to all the marine lines, because squatting nearby Shepard could see Goose's face pinched into worry for their fellow marines. Saint nearby him was shaking her head, her face an ashen color with wet crimson blood running down one cheek.  **"Do you want to give the order for reinforcements, ma'am? We can't establish contact to ask for live account of enemy presence. Romeo over."**

The question left Shepard frozen for another half minute, but the sound of concrete exploding near her head told her that a sniper's shot had busted through the barricade just next to her. Her eyes flicked towards the battle display, checking to see if conditions had changed—but they hadn't. Though the Alliance had yet to arrive in much strength, the arrival of the  _Agincourt_  had allowed them an orbital tactical view of the battle—which was able to report to Shepard the enemy count at any given location, so she could make appropriate in the field orders. What she was seeing from the  _Agincourt's_  report was that Zone Eight was getting hit with as much as they'd originally seen headed in that direction, and the number of marines and armor present should be able to hold it with minimal casualties, unlike Zone Four.  **"Valk-6 Actual here, negative Romeo—militia holds steady. Valk-6 over."**

" **Copy that Sergeant Major. Romeo over and out."**

The fighting in Zone Four took on a somber tone, even more than before, as an uncertainty as to the situation of their comrades in Zone Eight became apparent. The hole that'd formed from the missed sniper round before widened now, with more debris sent about from the new missed shot. Not wanting to tempt an accurate shot, Shepard booked it for a nearby spot with better cover, laying down fire with her Carnifex as she moved to keep the enemy down until she was safe.

Still-hot ceramic plating dug into her arm as she settled behind the cover, and Shepard grimaced while trying to find some relief from the mishap with her right arm's armor. Frantically her fingers caught beneath the fore-arm's ceramic plating and tore it away, leaving her arm exposed but free from the burning of her old armor. Nearby her Keir had caught sight of the incident, and a chuckle left her mouth as the woman leaned forward to shout something to Shepard. She must've leaned further than intended, because a sniper's round was able to catch her from just under her bottommost left rib, only to be spit out near her right hip.

An ear-piercing scream came from the marine as she toppled, and Shepard scrambled to try and drag her behind cover better.  **"Fuck no you're not dying tonight Gunny. Get your ass back up."**  Keir was still conscious and was mumbling something inaudible as blood spilled over her bottom lip, and then sprayed all over Shepard's visor when Keir finally coughed.

" **Valkyrie 6 this is Romeo, I'm receiving word that Alliance reinforcements** _ **are here**_ **, I repeat the Alliance is here. Shuttles inbound, seven minutes."**

Shepard growled something about word from Zone Eight, and vitals from Keir, but it was inaudible as the marine tugged to drag her friend the rest of the way to safety. Keir's body had only just slid behind cover when a rifle shot came from afar and hit Shepard in the lower gut. The Sergeant Major dropped to the ground, her voice a pained cry as she shouted out, "I'm hit!" Her hands instinctively searched for the bullet wound, and the warm pooling of blood nearby it, but were unable to find anything. Instead she found a caved in part of her abdomen plating, alongside a painfully sore patch of her stomach—the ceramic of her armor had caught and protected her from the slug, at the cost of its integrity. "Bullet didn't break skin, I'm ok," she coughed out in a pained voice.

Shepard was on her back now, sitting up somewhat with her feet stretched in front of her. She could see there was a trio of slavers, a vorcha, a turian, and a batarian, all headed towards where she'd drug Keir. The battered Sergeant Major surged forward, a swipe of her hand seizing the vorcha's head in brilliant blue biotic energy and snapping its neck. Her right hand, meanwhile, found her shotgun on her back and blew the other two away with back to back shots.

Still the attackers were advancing, and she felt blinding white-hot pain surge through her leg as a slug passed through the inside of her thigh. Her leg was already crumpling beneath her, sending her to the ground, when her abdomen caught another round midway down. The round hit a few inches above her left hip, and blew clean out the other side with a spray of blood.  **"Shit, shit, shit!"** She moaned, trying her best to crawl to safety,  **"I'm hit, I can't feel my left leg."**

* * *

The light pouring in from above was blinding in a way that Shepard hadn't expected. Given the beating that Illyria, and Elysium as a whole, had taken she didn't think that anything functional enough to make a light that bright was left. She shifted in place and came to realize that she was lying down on a bed, one that was semi-comfortable, but most notably she wasn't wearing her armor—or even her rough textured thermal underlay.

As more sights began to come into focus around her Shepard was able to piece together her location, she was lying atop a hospital bed somewhere, dressed in a hospital gown. She tried to shift in place, and felt blinding pain radiate up from both her stomach and her leg. Across the patient room a door opened, and in came a white and orange clad Alliance Medical Officer, the young man with ginger hair holding a clipboard in his hands.  **"Welcome to the land of the living Sergeant Major Shepard."**  He gave her a slight smile and began to take her vitals,  **"You made one hell of a stand."**

Her eyes darted between the doctor, and the surrounding medical equipment, before trying to seek out the condition of her legs—the haunting specter of pain beginning to creep back into her psyche from the wounds she'd suffered.  **"We won?"**

The doctor gave a soft nod, smiling at the injured woman while he looked over her vitals.  **"You did! But rest now, you can celebrate later. There are some people here to see you now, Sergeant Major, and I'll leave you to them."**

Waiting near the medbay's doors were Romano and Pask, both dressed in fatigues with worry creased across their faces. Romano spoke first, his head dipping a little as he cautiously approached the bed,  **"You look like shit Shep… but I'm glad you're alive."**

Shepard cracked into a painful chuckle, her lower stomach bursting into hot pain at the action. She wriggled herself into a more comfortable position, sitting a bit more upright than before. The same pain as when she'd laughed earlier came, but after a few seconds it seemed to die off. She looked down at her wrapped up leg and abdomen and shook her head solemnly.  **"How long was I out?"**

" **Only a couple hours."**  Pask cut in, stepping alongside Romano.  **"We've only been cleaned up and onboard an hour or so now."**

" **Burgess?"**  The question had been at the forefront of her mind since she woke up, but she'd managed to hold it till now.

The inquiry seemed to lighten Pask's mood some, and she nodded encouragingly.  **"She made it, had to go in for surgery to patch up her guts but pulled through."**

Relief washed over Shepard, so much so that it was likely visible to those standing around her.  **"How bad were the casualties?"**

" **Zone Eight got swamped,"**  Romano began,  **"but not to the point where they couldn't hold their own, and they repelled the attack—at a bad casualty rate though. Abner died in the attack."**

* * *

" **Is that why you focused on recalling Corporal Abner's specific comments earlier? His requests for reinforcements, his remarks about killing batarians, so on?"**  The doctor was writing something on one of her pads now, the writing obscured from Shepard's vision but clearly related to the question at hand.

" **Are you trying to say I'm guilty for his death? I make decisions that cost lives sometimes, but I was** _ **right.**_ **"**

" **If you were right, Lieutenant, then why do you feel the need to convince yourself of that?"**  The question felt like sand grating at her from every angle it could. She wanted to storm from the interview, but instead she settled back down and continued.

* * *

Walking with a cane was far more foreign than it appeared to be at first sight. Shepard leaned on the wrist-supported walking device, while she swung her other leg forward to stagger down the deck. It'd been eighteen hours now since the end of the battle, and Shepard had been bordering on stir crazy before she finally braved the flight form her medical bed. Some of her belongings from Elysium had been ferried up and stored in her room for her, and from them she'd managed to find a black T-Shirt she had cut into a tank top, and a pair of baggy navy-blue gym shorts that were comfortable and wouldn't squeeze her leg wound. Now out of her hospital gown, and struggling to walk with a cane, Shepard was free to wander the halls of whichever ship she'd been transferred to.

" **You know, I'm no medical officer but I'm pretty sure walking after taking two rounds is ill advised."**

The rich voice booming behind her froze Shepard in her pace, and a swiveling turn of her body revealed the dark skinned, uniformed Lieutenant David Anderson standing behind her. Her expression of frozen fear melted into a warm comradery as she relaxed.  **"It's good to see you again sir. Were you part of the reinforcements?"**

" **I'm the commander of a Special Operations unit stationed aboard the ship you're aboard now, the** _ **SSV London.**_ **We were part of the reinforcements, yes."**

The words seemed to sit with Shepard for a whole minute, before she nodded in recognition,  **"The** _ **London**_ **is part of the Fifth Fleet, right?"**

Anderson nodded his confirmation, while he closed the distance between them. **"It is. Fifth was the closest to Elysium when you sounded the alarm, so we came."**

Anderson was an officer Shepard had met a few times prior, specifically during her time after the Villa. He was one of those she admired, and one that always seemed to have a helping hand extended toward her.  **"I appreciate the help, sir. We were swamped down there…"**

Anderson flashed one of his trademark smiles,  **"That's not what I've been hearing. I heard you picked from your company leader and held out in the face of overwhelming numbers when the line got breached."**  The comment caused Shepard's head to dip, the younger woman still trying to cope with the losses she'd suffered back on Elysium.

" **I appreciate it sir."**

" **It's true, Shepard, you did well down there. As a matter of fact, Rear Admiral Hackett asked I send you his way once you were on your feet."**  Shepard's lips parted slightly out of surprise, and her eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Rear Admiral Hackett was a legend to marines and sailors alike, and that he had asked for  _her_ was a shock she hadn't been expecting.  **"I see you're on your feet now."**

Anderson had a way of raising her spirits without even seeming to try, and she wondered in part if he was trying to fill the vacant role of father for her. Still, Shepard nodded slowly and began to limp back towards her patient room,  **"Let me get dressed then."**

He stopped her as she walked past with a warm hand against her cold bare shoulder,  **"If you need more time to recover the Admiral can wait. You got hurt pretty badly down there."**

Locks of red hair bobbed around her head as Shepard vigorously shook it,  **"I'll be fine Anderson, thanks."**

* * *

It took a little longer than she was accustomed to get dressed, the still-painful wound along the inside of her leg cramping some of her previous agility. Her dress uniform had been among the belongings transferred to the  _London,_ and Shepard had managed to fit herself into it even with her decreased mobility. Beneath her dress jacket, her undershirt was wrapped tight with extra bandages around where she'd been shot, hoping to prevent any possibility of bleeding through. She'd been given a slightly more formal cane, one made of a matte black metal that wouldn't stand out as much with her uniform. Anderson had accompanied her for the flight, but once they'd arrived aboard the  _Hyderabad_ he had gone in a different direction, leaving her with one of the most feared and respected men in the Alliance Armed Forces.

Compared to Hackett, who stood before her now, Shepard looked slight. She was visibly muscular, and she stood with a squareness to her stance indicative of the marines, but she didn't carry the same weight and stopping power as the older grizzled Admiral. She noticed that the stars on his jacket had increased in number from what she last remembered, making him now a two-star Admiral alongside being the head of the Fifth Fleet and it's Special Operations wing.

His eyes were a chilled blue, which Shepard felt could cut her apart if she were to cross him in any way. Those eyes were looking over her now, taking stock of everything she had available as if she were a weapon laying on a table in front of him. Finally he spoke, and she realized the rumbly crackly sound she'd heard in his recordings wasn't a defect of any holo-projector, but was a part of his voice itself.  **"What is your name, marine?"**

Amidst the  _Hyderabad's_ chief CIC the comment drew the attention of nearby sailors at the various duty stations, but upon seeing her arrival they paid little further attention.  **"Sergeant Major Jessica Shepard, sir."**

She kept a steel to her voice that she guessed few were able to retain when speaking with the Admiral, because she saw a small flicker of respect run through his eyes. He was staring her dead in the eyes now, and she thought perhaps he'd seen some of the pinkish puffing around her eyes where she'd previously been crying, but not even the slightest flicker of an expression showed on his face to indicate he'd seen it.  **"Do you know why I asked you aboard the Hyderabad, Sergeant Major Shepard?"**

" **No sir."**

**"It's because I'd like to discuss a future for you, a different path than the one you're presently on with the Marine Corps before. Walk with me, will you?"**

_He didn't wait for her response though, he simply beckoned her along and began walking in his desired direction—away form the cruiser's bustling CIC and towards a nearby stairwell._ **"I've read the reports from Illyria's defense, and what you managed down there. It's my understanding the only reason you were on-world was scheduled leave, is that not correct?"**

Shepard gave a soft nod to confirm the Admiral's comment, and he went on with a snort of amusement.  **"It don't imagine it's any surprise to you to know the Hegemony sponsors pirates,** ** _terrorists_** **I call them, to harass our efforts in the area—particularly the Verge. Their support has elevated otherwise small pirate and smuggling operations to become actual local powers, and it's only getting worse. be any surprise to you that the Hegemony is sponsoring pirates, terrorists I call them, to harass our efforts in the area—especially around the Verge. With their support, otherwise small pirate and smuggling operations have become local powers, and they're just going to keep growing."**

The pair had reached the deck below the CIC, and to their left was a large view port that the Admiral gestured to with his left hand. Through it Shepard could see Elysium, glimmering as light from its star reflected from its atmosphere.  **"They've already started calling the battle down there 'the Skyllian Blitz', and there are a few things that are going to happen in the immediate future. The Alliance is going to be doing a lot of very public grieving, and posturing, and they'll be doing all they can to be accommodating to the victims from this attack** ** _for one key reason:_** **we knew this was coming**."

The statement caused Shepard's step to falter, and she locked him with a shocked glance of her eyes.  **"We didn't know it would be now, or that it would be Elysium, but we knew it was coming. The Hegemony has been irate ever since DoCA decided they wanted to colonize the Verge. The top brass have been petitioning parliament for a greenlight on some decisive military action in the area, but there was too much fright amongst them to authorize anything like that. They were worried about the blood of another First Contact War being on their hands, or losing our standing in the Galactic Community, but I've already received notice that I've been authorized to put together a task force to operate in the Verge, and beyond should I see fit, to assure this never happens again."**

The pair had stopped in front of the view port now, and for a few moments they just stared down at the wounded planet below. She could only barely make out the sight of the fires on the surface, but the floating smoking debris between the planet and her reminded her of the battle that'd just been fought here. "His name is Elanos Haliat."

**"Sir?"**

**"The man responsible for all this, who organized the attack, his name is Elanos Haliat. He's a turian, a former member of the Hierarchy military before being dishonorably discharged. He's a soldier of fortune now, at the employ of the Hegemony. "** _The peaceful sight of Elysium in front of her was gone. All Shepard could see was Abner, joking and cutting loose, only to succumb to the fear and panic he had in the end. She saw the countless marines and civilians strewn everywhere during the battle, and she only had two words to tie it all to: Elanos Haliat. The name had given Shepard a channel for her rage, and presently she wasn't able to get any words out to Hackett in response._

_" **Forgive me cutting straight to the point, Sergeant, but there is potential in you. You're a blade, minted by the Marine Corps in 2172 but not yet tempered to her full potential."**_ _He rested a hand on his shoulder, and she could feel a surprising strength from him given his age._ _**"I'd like to fasten you into a pointed weapon, one that I can aim at the Hegemony's jugular to cut off the possibility of another attack like this at the legs. I'm offering you a transfer to the** _ _**Hyderabad** _ _**to join the new task force. I can't promise prestige or deserved promotion, but I can promise you two things. One, that your leash will always be as long as you need it to be, and you won't be bound by bureaucracy."** _

_" **And the second, sir?"**_

_" **I won't tell you to stop until we can both stand over the bloody remains of the Hegemony and know the mission is complete."**_

_**There was another stretch of silence born out of his offer, and the Admiral opted to add a disclaimer should Shepard not like his offer, "You can return to the to your old platoon and I won't stop you, and I won't retaliate. The choice is yours."** _

_" **When do we ship out, sir? And where will my bunk be?"**_

_A thin smile came over Hackett's face as he tucked his hands into his pocket._ **"We ship out as soon as the SSV Hong Kong can transfer over your belongings. My XO will show you to your bunk, Second Lieutenant Shepard."**

**"Sir?"**

**"I had the paperwork forwarded to MARCOMM as soon as I read the after-action report of what you did in Illyria."** _He fished a single gold bar from his pocket and pressed it into her hand as he shook it. She grasped his hand tightly in return, fingers curling inward to take the bar from him. The action had left her speechless, and Hackett let them remain in a state of mutual silence for another moment._

**Admiral?"**

**"Yes, Lieutenant?"**

**"You swing at the target, and I'll make sure they don't get up."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have read Survival, the final scene from this chapter lines up with the third chapter of Survival when Hackett was introduced to the story. I tried to port it over as best I could to keep the theme of this story, seeing as they are the same Shepard. :)


	4. Chapter 4

" **Did the Lieutenant seem a bit more cheerful 'is morning?"**  The thick accented voice of Private Teddic Bickmore drawled out.

" **I 'unno."**  Shot back Corporal Pia Hyslop, her words somewhat slurred as she tried to chew on the piece of jerky in her mouth and talk at the same time.  **"I imagine it's a pr'y easy life being an LT, y'know head up your ass the whole time."**

Corporal Jazzmine Waxman cut in with a low admonishing whistle, shaking her head at the comment.  **"The LT is a Mustang, y' outta see her when we face combat. More combat capable than any other Platoon LT I've seen before."**

" **Nah, they' force 'em to get the ol' Officer Lobotomy at OCS. You're never the same again."**  Fired back Hyslop.

Waxman seemed to let the comment go and kept walking towards the gear locker she'd been headed for, but Bickmore recalled the original source of the conversation and reiterated his question—hoping for a new answer this time.  **"I'm serious, she always seems motivated, but she seems** _ **eager**_ **for this operation."**

Shepard had been leaned against one of the Unit's IFVs, listening amused to the conversation occurring in the kennel. Slowly she stepped out from behind the IFV, still behind Bickmore and Hyslop, but well within sight of Waxman at her locker.

" **Heard we're hittin' a ship with a confirmed-blitz IFF**." This from Sergeant Lydia Esher Squad Leader for the Raider Unit's First Platoon, First Squad.

" **The LT real patriotic-like?"**  Bickmore was a new addition to The Raiders, and she would almost feel bad for what was going to come.

" **No dumbass, she served in the Blitz."**

Bickmore's eyes widened in surprise, and he tilted his head at the Sergeant,  **"No shit?"**

" **Yeah, I was one of the teams that pulled out the survivors. Found her defending the most damaged AA Cannon, in a bombed-out crater full of dead pirates, having taken two rounds. Shit was brutal."**

" **Imagine being there before the fighting stopped."** This the cool steely voice of Shepard herself.  **"If you're all done doing a recap of my service history, we've got a breach to prepare for. We move in fifteen, I want everything polished and ready. Hyslop, why don't you coordinate with custodial once we get back aboard. I'm sure they could sue some marine muscle cleaning the ship."**  Shepard had stepped further from the IFV, to the center of their little gathering, and then past it. In her wake the marines were scrambling to ready their gear, but Shepard didn't look back right now. She was sociable and talkative, but they needed time to themselves to get their things and she needed a bit of space to build the perception of authority.

An armored shoulder jostled into her from the right, and she saw a pretty smirking face staring back at her.  **"You are happier today than usual."**

" **Got enough sleep."**

" **Bullshit, you** _ **never**_ **get enough sleep. You look like somebody that just got laid and considering there's no corresponding lucky lady—I'll go with Esher's assumption."**

" **Oh, shut the hell up."**  Shepard quipped back, her lips betraying her by twisting into a smirk on the corners. The woman jostling beside her was Staff Sergeant Kendra Biggie, Shepard's number two in the Platoon Leadership and her closest friend in the unit.  **"I don't sleep in-unit."**  Shepard added, her voice monotone and low.

Biggie shot back just a look, one with enough inuendo and confidence to imply she thought she could change that. The expression just earned a roll of Shepard's eyes, and the two women walked lock step in silence until they reached the breaching tunnel. While Biggie browsed something on a datapad in her hand, Shepard cocked her own smirk and whispered,  **"I do feel a little…** _ **eager.**_ **"**

" **Honey, you've got more pictures of Elanos Haliat than his girlfriend probably does. You** _ **exude**_ **eager when it comes to revenge."**

The retort drew a subtle frown from Shepard, the Lieutenant drawing deathly silent before whispering.  **"I've only got three."**

" _ **Yeah,**_ **because those are the only 3 we've been able to capture. I'm pretty sure one of them is classified well above your O-1 paygrade."**

Fifteen minutes came to pass, and the marines of Shepard's Raider Platoon 1 were all organized near the breach point.  **"Where's Platoon 2, ma'am?"**  came a question from PFC Mustoe.

" **Commander Healey deemed a breach with fifty marines was a bit large, given the size of the enemy ship—I'm inclined to believe. Why Mustoe, feel like you're gonna need them?"**

" **Ma'am, no, ma'am."**

The marine's crisp smile brought a smile to Shepard's face, and she pulled her helmet and breather attachment over her head with a hiss-click.  **"Alright then,** _ **hoorah."**_

The whole ship shuddered around the gathered marines, a deathly groaning sound on the other side of the nearby hatch. The shaking and sound both were the result of their ship coming to ram against the enemy ship, so the raiders could board through their hatch. She heard the deep thumping of magnetic locks clicking on outside the bulkhead, and then a brilliant light began to draw a circle around the edge of their boarding hatch until it had sliced through the enemy bulkhead and created an umbilical boarding tube.

The space on the other side of the hatch was dark and tinted in a harsh emergency red tone. Shepard charged through the hatch, and behind her she could hear the footsteps of a couple dozen marines all following suit. She could feel the enemy ship tugging against the Alliance's grip on it beneath her, their thrusters and engines struggling as hard as they could to free themselves from the magnetic clamps.

It had been almost three minutes since she was aboard, and Shepard was just now departing their entry room, when a nearby flurry of movement caught her attention.  **"Contact!"**  That single word changed the behavior of all her trailing marines, she could see it just from her peripheral sight of them. The soldiers stiffened, their shoulders drawing tighter together as they jerkily moved forward to hunt their foe.

The lone figure, painted green in her visor's night vision mode, jerked back into sight with a slight carbine in sight. Shepard already had an M-15 Vindicator in hand, and her finger gripped twice at its trigger to send two bursts of three rounds each tearing into the man's chest. She saw him flail backwards, the first round or so deflected by a hardened vest, but the remainder sending a spray of blood out behind him.  **"Down."**

Her movements became quick after downing the enemy, knowing that meant there were more nearby. She pushed down the hall quickly, her hand jetting out and slashing at a door to indicate the pair in line clear it. Twice more, figures darted out from an adjoining room to take aim at her, and twice more Shepard cut down her attacker with deadly efficiency.

* * *

Shepard was standing relaxed in the control-center for the enemy ship they'd just raided. All around her swarmed Alliance techs, all scraping data and transmissions from the consoles they had recovered. She and her marines had brutally cut through the ship's resistance, not even one of them even wounded in the process. The newly cleared ship then had become a play-thing for the Naval Officers who saw it as a treasure trove of information about the organized piracy happening in and around the Verge.

Shepard turned to face a newly-approached Officer, a young Naval Ensign with shoulder-cut brown hair and a freckled face.  **"My name is Ensign Hanthaul, with Intel. Erm, one of our prisoners, the ship's captain, refuses to answer any of our questions. He just keeps pointing at** _ **you and**_ **insisting to talk to you. We were wondering if you would oblige and see if it opened him up some."**

 _Me?_ Shepard cocked an eyebrow at Hanthaul and shrugged.  **"Sure? What's he got a crush on me for?"**

" **We're not sure, he just keeps insisting he talk to you."**

The smaller woman guided Shepard across the control-center to a side room with partially transparent walls, which also housed their prisoner. She stepped aside upon reaching the door, indicating Shepard had to go alone.  **"His name is Ishtomi Rolthai."**  Shepard just nodded in response and pushed inside the room.

" **She agree?"**  The voice was low toned, with a rattling pitch to it, and belonged to the older, balding, Intel Captain Hues.

" **She did."**

Meanwhile, inside the makeshift-interrogation room, Shepard faced off with the ship's captain.  **"There a** _ **reason**_ **you asked for me? You just wanna talk to the one that killed all your morons with guns? Because I had some help, but yeah that was me."**

The captain, an older turian with weathered features, laughed. He had an eye patch pulled around his head, covering where his left eye should have been. All around the patch there was scarring and discoloration that the patch failed to hide **. "Ha! Funny girl!"** He bellowed, adjusting himself as best he could within his restraints **. "Incorrect though, I'm afraid. Your** _ **friends**_ **told me something about you."**  He jerked his head at the Intel Officers,  **"You are the** _ **Savior of Elysium**_ **as they call you, no?"** A loud avian-like cackle bellowed from his chest, while the captain leaned into his seat some to sell the amusement.  **"The… how do they say…** _ **The Hero of the Blitz!"**_ He scoffed again, this time with his sole eye cutting upward to lock sight with her. The Captain had a strange accent to his words, one that wasn't any natural turian accent she'd heard before, nor was it one common to the Verge. It had a way of making 'th' sound like 'z'.  **"I was there, you know,"**  he prodded.

" **So I've been told."** All the amusement earlier present in her tone was gone, replaced by a cold ice.  **"Was that it? You just wanted to re-live the 'good ol' days' before I kicked your ass a second time?"**

" **A sharp tongue on you, Sergeant!"**  The Captain cheered, sticking his tongue out like a snake to punctuate it.  **"I've heard a lot about** _ **you,**_ **yes I have."**  He struggled against his restraints to lean forward, as if to demonstrate getting a better look at her.  **"They talked about you** _ **so**_ **much following the Crusade, but personally I've always wondered if things would have been any different without you there. Haliat put a good deal of time into** _ **planning**_ **doing gods' work, but—well look what he was working with."** The turian's face grew as close to 'sympathetic' as it could, while he tried to the dead guards outside,  **"They're not exactly top shelf."**

" **So, you've met Haliat?"**  Shepard asked, her words sharp as a blade. Though the question was one that the intel people might have asked, their agenda was the last thing from her mind; this Captain had held a candle to her demons, and they were awake now.

" **Tell the girl that I was present during the Crusade, the girl knows that Haliat was responsible for our Crusade, and the girl asks if I've met Haliat."**  He laughed a hysteric sound, his posture shifting back to relaxed.  **"The girl is more… stupid than I initially realized."**

" **Cut the bullshit Rolthai. When was the last time you saw Haliat?"**

" **How does stupid girl know that I have met with Haliat if I didn't answer her question!"**  The turian's self-amused laughter came back, until it was sharply interrupted by Shepard's armored foot stomping on his.

" **Do not fuck with me. How often do you meet with Haliat?"**

" **I meet with Haliat when he wishes to meet me, and I also wish to meet with him. It is a** _ **scheduling nightmare."**_

A gloved fist came to strike the blind side of the Captain's face, her blow cracking one of his cheek-plates.  **"You asked for me to be here, now answer my goddamn questions!"** Her right hand, the one which had just struck his face, grabbed at the collar of his spacer outfit, tugging it upward threateningly. Outside she saw the Intel Officers shifting uncomfortably, knowing if she got much more out of control they would have to intervene.  **"How much do you see Haliat?"**

" **I no longer wish to speak; the** _ **Savior of Elysium**_ **has hurt my face."**

Shepard's hand released his shirt and immediately smacked backward across his other cheek. The impact sent a sharp  _clap_ sound through the room, and she saw dark blue blood slowly trickling from where she'd smacked him. She was going to ask him another question, but he was laughing louder than ever with his head thrown back now.  **"I understand why he hates you!"**  Mused the hysteric turian,  **"I only wish I could see how he does it."**

" **Does what?"**  Her eyes were hard as stone, and boring down into his face—but they were only met with more laughter. She kicked the captain in the chest, sending him toppling backward so that he was upside down, but he only cackled more in response. The Intel Officers were now rushing through the door, with Haunthaul placing a ceasing hand on Shepard's shoulder to stop her from going on. The Lieutenant almost bucked her away but caved and began to turn away from the toppled captain.

As she finished turning, he shouted one last thing  **"I only wish I could see** _ **how he kills you.**_ **"**

* * *

" **Are you admitting to having abused a prisoner in Alliance custody?"**

" **It was the heat of the moment."**  Shepard fired back, her cheeks already red—and her vision heading that way.  **"And it was earlier in my career."**

" **Lieutenant,"**  the Doctor chuckled,  **"this was last year."**

Shepard's fingers gripped tighter at the arm rest of the chair she sat on, and even that caught the Doctor's attention—and earned a line of writing in the woman's notebook.

* * *

" **You doing a transfer to protection detail on Purgatory?"**  The voice was playful, as a shoulder came to bump into Shepard in a way that was becoming more and more familiar.

" **What the hell are you talking about**?" Her words were muffled by chewing on the cracker she'd just popped into her mouth, but Shepard's mouth found itself in an amused smile, nonetheless.

" **Heard you were beating the shit out of a prisoner earlier—figured you might make a career out of it."**  The jokes belonged, of course, to the never-ending series of jokes made by Biggie.

" **Oh, fuck you!"**  Shepard cried back, her nose wrinkling in distaste.  **"I thought you might've had a decent joke for once."**

" **Oh, don't even, you love my jokes."**

" **Then why'd I put in a transfer request for my Platoon-second?"** Her lips now found themselves twisted into a mischievous smirk directed at her friend.

" **You wouldn't make it a day without me, LT."**

The pair had navigated the halls of the  _Hyderabad_ side by side now, entering one of its many lifts to take them to an off-duty area of the ship.  **"How'd I survive** _ **before**_ **you then?"**

" **You were an NCO then, it was a simpler time—before the lobotomy."**  Kendra leaned against the lift wall, her hands exploding outward from her head as if to mime the lobotomy.  **"So, I heard we dock with Arcturus within the hour for the whole prisoner trade-off. What're your plans once aboard?"**

Shepard's amused expression melted into annoyance,  **"My wife got word I was off-loading at Arcturus and she's picking me up from the docks."**

Kendra's lips quivered, trying not to smirk or laugh, but she caved quickly, and a smile crossed her face lip to lip,  **"God damn that frown when you mentioned your wife said a lot."**

" **I didn't frown!"**

" **Yeah,** _ **okay.**_ **You just… intensely expressed distaste?"**

" **I'm married because I love my wife."**  Shepard's voice was an annoyed monotone, meant to fulfill the obligation to say such rather than any heartfelt truth.

" **That bad, huh? Well, too bad. Most of us were going out for drinks back at the station, I was** _ **going**_ **to invite you, but now I'll have one of the religious ones pray for you."** The lift opened out into a long corridor that lead to a dozen areas of the ship, and Shepard shuffled out of the lift. Looking back, she caught a faux-sad expression on Kendra's face, the woman saluting Shepard as she left.  **"Stay strong LT, divorce lawyers are affordable on an Officer's salary."**

* * *

_The design effort that bars go through on Arcturus is surprising,_ mused Kendra Biggie as she stooped over a banged up wooden table inside of one of said bars. Rather than many of the businesses or establishments that settled for a dull gray metal for its furniture, much like the walls and floor of Arcturus were made of,  _the Foxhole_ had opted to import actual wood for its countertop and tables. Kendra and the other marines had commandeered two of  _the Foxhole's_ tables, pushing them together to form a large surface for the marines to eat, drink and fuck around on.

The soldiers were thankfully off duty, meaning that Kendra had been able to ditch her BDUs for something comfortable and fashionable. The 21-year-old marine had opted for a pair of skintight reddish-salmon jeans, a similarly tight gray SAMC tank-top and a reddish-black leather jacket overtop it.

Sitting near her right hand was a half-full glass of beer which sloshed as she adjusted how she was leaning on the table. One of the male marines a few seats down was trying to hook up with a nearby patron, eliciting whoops and cheers from the other intoxicated marines around him. Personally, Kendra had been working her game with their waitress all night, and from the lingering glare she'd been earning from the woman the past couple trips Kendra was pretty sure she was near-assuredly successful.

Across the room some of the marines were tussling with other patrons near a pair of pool tables. Kendra wondered frustratedly if she should intervene and stop what could be a budding fight, but her eyes caught another stare from her mark and she let the raiders do their thing. When she glanced back to meet eyes with the waitress, she found herself looking instead at a tall, muscular redhead striding through the door.

Biggie bit her lip while she shook her head, muttering to herself **"Oh she's** _ **so**_ **getting divorced."** She shoved the bulky marine beside her, forcing the man to slide in some so that she could do the same and let Shepard on her booth.  **"Well if it isn't the prodigal daughter."**

" **I'm definitely older than you, Bigs." She laughed while squeezing in.**

" **We have a fully stocked bar tonight, you'll find a mousy brunette over there,"**  Kendra's finger picked out the thin brown-haired girl by the bar,  **"there's a blonde somewhere, might be in the bathroom, and there's a cute redhead, besides you, that's our waitress tonight but I've got dibs on her. Oh, and there's enough hunk testosterone to float a battle ship in here, but I'd go as far as to say hunk isn't your flavor."**

Shepard locked eyes with her, her facial muscles never so much as quivering toward a smile while she dead-paned her reply,  **"You'd be surprised."**

Kendra's eyebrows just shot up, and her eyes darted between one of the muscular marines and Shepard. The stunt drew an annoyed roll of the latter's eyes,  **"Stop thinking gross things in your head about me."**

" **Okay, boss, change of subject: why'd you dip on your wife to come drink with me tonight?"**

" **I came to drink with more than just you."**

" _ **aaand she slides to avoid the question."**_

Shepard's fore-finger, alongside her ring finger and pinky finger all curled back against her palm while she held her drink, leaving only her middle finger extended and directed at Kendra.  **"I didn't dip on her either."**

Kendra's lips pursed, and her eyes darted between the general bar-area and Shepard.  **"Hmm, you're here, and not with her—that's kinda how that works."**

"She still picked me up, and we spent time together, I just came over here afterwards."

" **Jess, we've been on Arcturus for like fifty minutes tops."**  It was the first time Kendra had called her superior officer, and friend, by her first name. Considering the risqué jokes she would make at Shepard, and the informality the two shared, it wasn't risky—but there was a momentary catch of breath in Kendra's throat as the sentence finished.

Shepard just released a frustrated groan and took a long sip, which transformed into a desperate gulp, from her newly-arrived beer.  **"What do you want me to say?"**  She pleaded.

" **What ended happy family times early?"**

" **I just can't take it sometimes, okay? I told her that I had to go do military stuff."**

" **Mmmmm yeah, you're gonna be getting divorced soon."**  Biggie's tone was teasing, but also sympathetic given Shepard's budding frustration. The two friends deviated from their discussion of Shepard's marriage to an array of other topics, Kendra's attempts to win over the waitress notwithstanding.

Shepard saw one of her marines coming from the direction of the restrooms, and the Lieutenant shifted her attention in his direction while cupping her hands around her mouth.  **"Hey, Toombs!"** The marine kept walking towards the table, her shout not having reached him.  **"Hey, shit brains!"**  Nothing,  **"** _ **Corporal Toombs!"**_ Her voice took on a steel born from years of leading marines under fire.

The final shout got his attention, and the marine looked a little bewildered to have been shouted at.  **"Ma'am?"** He stood confused in the middle of the bar.

" **Get some more bar food over here, I want some of their fries."**

Toomb's face wilted into a tired acceptance, and he nodded,  **"Aye Ma'am."**

" **Thanks Toombstone!"**

The marines seemed perfectly keen to stay camped at  _the Foxhole_ all night, and the military-oriented establishment was likewise keen to host them all night. Despite this, when 0200 came around there was an announcement of last call, and then the intoxicated and rowdy marines were ushered out into the vast walkways of Arcturus Station.

The couple dozen marines were all loudly mumbling on about splitting fares for a cab or walking back to barracks. Shepard and Biggie were staggering around in front of  _the Foxhole,_ Shepard trying to get oriented toward her apartment and Biggie with a promise that the waitress would call her when she was off the following night. Esher was nearby them, leaned against the outside of the bar, when she staggered, pitched over, and began to vomit up her last few hours' worth of food and drink. Instinctively, one of the other marines, Macey Jennison, grabbed Esher's hair and pulled it back away from her face.

" **Fuckin' Christ, Esher."**  Shepared mused with a shake of her head.  **"Thought you could hold your liquor better than that Lydia. You assholes can stay at my apartment, but no puking on the carpet."**

The Lieutenant flagged down a passing cab for her and the other three women, and miraculously Esher went the entire ride without puking in the skycar. The ride altogether was less than five minutes from  _the Foxhole_ to Shepard's apartment, but it was a walk the drunken women weren't quite ready to tackle in their current state.

As if she'd willed herself to wait, Esher could be hear puking into the apartment's outdoor decorative plants as Shepard desperately tried to key herself into the lift. The raiders struggled to get down the hall without falling, but the experienced alcoholics of Shepard and Biggie were able to guide Esher into the flat without any vomit spilled in the hall.

The younger sergeant was rushed to a guest bathroom where she could keep throwing up, with Jennison following closely behind her to take care of her friend. Biggie very-obviously feigned tripping and draped herself onto Shepard, their faces close together as the Sergeant pretended to try and catch her balance.

To her credit Shepard just shook her head and laughed,  **"Not happening."**

" **Oh please,"**  Biggie rolled her eyes,  **"you totally think I'm hot."**

Shepard playfully pushed the other woman back some to ignore the conversation, but her attention was immediately seized from behind by the icy shock of an unexpected voice,  **"What the fuck is going on?"**

She turned to see her wife, Alexis Sherman, standing in the door of her bedroom, sleepily wiping her eyes while she looked at Shepard. Heart pounding in her chest, Shepard slipped away from where she'd been standing near the door and closed the distance between them—though given her state it was a staggered walk.  **"Fuck, Alex I didn't know you were here. I told my friends they could crash here."**

" **You thought I just… wasn't home?"**  Alexis fired back, yawning somewhat mid-sentence. The sound of Esher profusely vomiting in the other room broke through the silence following her question, and Alexis looked in the direction of the sound,  **"I thought you said you had military business?"**

" **I did, I was with… them."**  She motioned towards Kendra and the puking Esher.

" **Jess you smell like fucking beer."**  Her eyes cut at Kendra, obviously having caught the drunk woman's antics before she'd announced herself.  **"I'm going to sleep."** Alexis huffed, and she slipped back into the bedroom—slamming its door closed behind her, and then locking it with a soft chime.

Shepard looked over to Kendra and found that her normally playful friend was white as a ghost. She slipped an arm around the frightened younger woman, guiding her towards one of her couches.  **"I'm sorry about that Jess…"** Kendra mumbled while Shepard tucked her into the couch.  **"Hey, it's alright. It's all good."**  Jessica whispered back, and in a spur of the moment decision she stooped down to plant a gentle kiss on her friend's cheek before peeling away to her own couch. She was  _definitely_ getting divorced.


	5. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update was so long coming! Between a gruelling semester of university, and a serious case of writer's block, it took me a long time to crank out anything I was happy with. Hopefully updates will come quicker going forward :)

This morning had _not_ gone the way that Shepard expected, and it made her increasingly grateful for her iron-clad pokerface. It began at 0530, when despite the prior night of drinking and celebration, she’d awoken by a call. She almost didn’t wake up, but the rattling of her datapad against the coffee table near her head was enough to rouse her. 

 

Arcturus’ ambient ‘outdoor’ lighting hadn’t even returned to full brightness yet, she was only running on a net ~3 hours of sleep. Still, she did her best to banish any trace of exhaustion from her voice. **“Shepard here.”**

 

**“Lieutenant Shepard, this is Petty Officer Davidson—one of Admiral Hackett’s administrative aides. The Admiral is holding a briefing aboard the _Hyderabad_ at 0630, and has requested your presence.”**

 

_Shit,_ she just barely kept herself from blurting the word aloud. **“Affirmative,”** she managed, still struggling to keep her lack of sleep to herself. **“You can tell the Admiral I’ll be there on time.”**

 

The aide gave her a cheery acknowledgement, and then terminated the line. Shepard took a moment to make sure that the line was truly disconnected, and then groaned a vitriolic stream of profanity.

 

**“Your apartment officially counts as one of the worst motels I’ve ever crashed in,”** Kendra Biggie slurred out from where she was sprawled halfway across one of Shepard’s other couches. **“The bed was a fuckin’ couch, there’s no breakfast, and the bitch that owns the place woke me up at goddamn 0530.”**

 

The sudden voice earned a jolt of surprise from Shepard, who had forgotten that her drunken squamates were asleep in her living room. She struggled to sit up, taking in a cursory glance of the room. Esher was passed out in front of a chair she’d likely intended to sleep in, and the others were draped across the remaining furniture. 

 

She rolled off the couch as steadily as she could, and rushed to throw on one of the uniforms she kept here. Alexis didn’t say a word to her when she entered, but just tracked her with sharp eyes. After an uncomfortable two minutes, she emerged from her room with all but her jacket on, which was draped older her arm. Kendra had managed to get to her feet in the time she was gone, and was now staggering through Shepard’s kitchen.

 

Her friend had kicked her jeans off sometime in the night, and seemed to have forgone putting them back on. Her eyes followed Kendra longer than she’d intended, and her friend turned to look at her with a cocky grin. **“You need something?”**

 

Shepard quickly rolled her eyes, returning to the task of buttoning her jacket. **“Admiral Hackett is calling a meeting aboard the _Hyderabad_ at 0630,” **she began, answering a question Kendra didn’t ask. **“Can you round everyone up and leave the place somewhat straight… before…”** her eyes darted to the side, wordlessly motioning to the bedroom behind her.

 

Her friend broke from her the mocking grin to give Shepard a serious smile. **“Go on, Jess. I’ll take care of everything on this side,”** she replied, nodding comfortingly. 

 

With her concerns taken care of, Shepard hastily departed her apartment. It took forty-five minutes via a skycar taxi, and later a military shuttle for her to reach the _Hyderabad._ Despite the rush to arrive, Shepard strode into the meeting room cool and collected. The only outward sign of her lingering exhaustion was a faint stretch of darkness beneath her eyes, the bags she’d only thinly concealed beneath her makeup. All through the meeting she couldn’t get settled, as though the amount of caffeine and energy it’d taken to wake up had saturated her body with nervous energy. 

 

Their meeting room was dimly lit, with only a large circular table in the center. The table was lined with holographic haptic feedback panels, and its center was a massive holoprojector—currently displaying information about the coming operation. Standing across from Shepard, bathed in the cool pale light of the holoprojector, was Admiral Steven Hackett himself. The unusual shadows from the screens in front of him highlighted the scar across his face, giving the legendary Admiral a ghostly appearance. Alongside Hackett was Healey, and a few other MSOC Commanders—though Shepard was the only MSOT leader present.

 

He had spent the entire briefing speaking in depth about coming operations, but Shepard couldn’t help but notice none were inside the Verge—in fact most were along the border with the Traverse. The Admiral had yet to directly address Shepard’s reason for being here, though she’d given directions to Healey, which she took notes on.

 

Finally he turned towards her, and began to address her reason for being here. **“In the wake of the attack on Elysium two months ago, the Defense Department has been working on organizing a new regional command for the Verge. I was notified last night that the administrative work is complete, and we have the infrastructure to begin operations. Lieutenant Shepard, that’s why I asked you here this morning,”** Hackett began. **“While the _Hyderabad_ and its resident MSOC units will likely be working alongside VERGECOM at times, the Secretary wasn’t ready to dedicate that much of the Navy to the Verge. With that said, the reason I originally brought you aboard the _Hyderabad_ was for _this,_ and I’ve put in for your transfer to one of the newly formed units.”**

 

**“Admiral,”** Commander Healey cut in, drawing a sharp glare from Hackett. **“If I may, the Lieutenant was only just transferred to my command two months ago. A personnel shakeup now would be disruptive to unit cohesion.”**

 

**“Noted, Lieutenant Commander,”** Hackett coldly replied. **“However, this is not open for debate.”** He turned away from Healey, who was still visibly bothered but remained tame about it. **“Lieutenant Shepard, MSOC Delta has been assigned to the _SSV Marathon,_ as its marine detachment. I’ll put in for your belongings to be moved over, and _Marathon’s_ XO is prepared to answer any questions about the ship, or your new unit. Do you have any logistical questions for me?”**

 

The news that she was being transferred was still ringing fresh in Shepard’s head. Hackett had mentioned that he was putting together a task force to combat the pirates, but she’d had no reason to assume that wasn’t Commander Healey’s unit. Still, Shepard maintained her steely facade and turned to better face the Admiral. 

 

**“No sir,”** Shepard began, **“it uh.. seems like a fairly standard unit transfer… though sir—may I make one request?”**

 

Hackett’s eyebrows cast surprise on her, and Shepard almost flinched under his new scrutinization. **“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”**

 

**“I’m fond of my Staff Sergeant, sir. The two of us work well together, and if it’s possible I’d like to bring her with me.”** She wouldn’t try to pressure Hackett into giving her Biggie if he resisted, but she silently prayed he wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure that she would be able to work as close a rapport with anyone else, given the same amount of time. 

 

The Admiral gave her slow nod, and she could see Healey tensing in place a few feet away. **“That can be arranged for, Lieutenant. Commander Healey, I’ll send over the transfer orders as soon as we’re done here. I suspect we can have the Lieutenant and Sergeant both moved to the _Marathon_ within the day.”** He tapped at one of the touch-sensitive vidscreens mounted in front of him, and most of the projected holograms flickered out. **“With that settled, I believe we’re done here. Commander,”** he nodded to Healey, **“Lieutenant,”** he nodded to Shepard, **“dismissed.”**

 

* * *

 

Shepard had been initially skeptical about her sudden transfer, though she understood the reasoning behind it. After meeting her new CO, some of that skepticism had melted away. Lilith Johnes looked like someone had tried to carve a marine from a solid block of steel, using only a serrated blade. The twenty-nine year old Marine Commander was a hardened mustang, having enlisted at the bottom eleven years prior. Her service record was scored with valor and lethality, though her appearance reflected how rough her career had been.

 

At 5’11, Commander Johnes was an inch shorter than Shepard, but wielded a ferocious atmosphere around her. Her skin looked as though it’d been baked under the sun for hours, and there were thin white scars that ran errantly across her tan arms. She was wearing a black tank-top that advertised her N7 designation, and also showed that from the elbows up her tan died away—likely where her uniform sleeves cut off. Amidst the pale white of her left forearm there was an angry, credit sized scar that betrayed she’d been shot through the arm.

 

The petty scars on Johnes’ arm weren’t the only marks from her time in battle. Her right eye had an old, faded scar twisting out of the socket and into her hairline. Closer inspection revealed the sharp metallic lines, and unnatural colors of a prosthetic eye. 

 

Despite her harsh battle scars, Johnes had a relaxed demeanor. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a simple pony tail, though it looked long enough to extend past her shoulders. She seemed to be making a point to speak to each of the crew, and had stopped for a brief introduction with Shepard. Their conversation had been brief, with Johnes asking her some cursory questions about herself and her career. After only five minutes or so she’d peeled away, quoting a need to go speak with the engineers, and Shepard was left alone once again.

 

The _SSV Marathon,_ like other _Alamo_ -Class Frigates, was built to accommodate a full 50-person MSOC alongside its normal crew. There was a massive cargo bay that doubled as an armory and troop bay for its marine detachment. This often doubled as a common area for the ship's marine detachment, alongside the enlisted mess hall, and the small common sitting area amidst the marines' racks. 

 

Shepard was sitting against the cold bulkhead of the troop bay, silently taking stock of the vehicles, ordinance, and marines littered through the bay. This was a brand new unit, something Shepard had never been a part of, and at least half the marines had yet to arrive. _Speaking of new arrivals,_ Shepard thought to herself as she heard the exterior hatch begin hissing and beeping with the sanitation protocol for a new arrival. 

 

She pushed off the cold deck to greet the the latest addition to the company, only for the doors to slide open and reveal a familiar face. 

 

**"Oh you asshole. I should've expected you."**

 

Shepard had considered warning her friend about the transfer, though she drew a certain amusement from Biggie's surprise—given how overtly confident her friend was. Ultimately, caught up in meeting her new CO and getting familiarized with the ship, Shepard had forgotten about the matter entirely. **“What’d they tell you?”** Shepard asked, trying not to laugh but failing.

 

Kendra’s eyes sharpened into an unamused scowl, but she fell in lock step beside Shepard, while the latter lead them to wander the deck aimlessly. Just then, a deep shudder went through the deck of the ship—rattling everything around them, and causing Shepard to misstep. **“There was just some squid waiting for me, tossed some paperwork at me about Hackett transferring me, and then hauled my ass to the shuttle. Here I am still trying to understand what the fuck is going on, and then I run into your stupid ass."** Kendra's scowl had melted away to a thinly concealed smile, which she was trying to play off as annoyed. 

 

Shepard snorted a laugh in response to the tail, and lead her friend into the elevator that would take them to the crew deck. Beside the laugh, Shepard didn’t say anything—still trying to measure how she would broach the subject of having arranged for Biggie’s transfer. 

 

It quickly turned out that such wouldn’t be necessary, as Biggie mentally slid the puzzle pieces together faster than Shepard could find words. The shorter, younger woman turned to stare at her with eyes that were shielded behind an intentionally neutral expression. After a second, the steely blankness melted away to glinting amusement, **“You asked for my transfer didn’t you?”**

 

Shepard immediately began to verbally backpedal, shaking her head despite her own laughter. **“I’m not saying saying _that,_ Hackett just asked me if I had any suggestions.” **

 

Her friend saw through the front quickly, and shot her a sharp elbow to the ribs in response. **“Jessica Shepard: _‘Why be a homewrecker when you can be a unit-wrecker?’_ ”** Kendra teased sourly, but Shepard caught the hint of a smile in her eyes. 

 

**“I should’ve just left you behind,”** she retorted, **“at least then I’d be able to go ground side without you cracking jokes at me.”** Shepard caught her friend feigning offense in the corner of her eye, and she likely was queuing up to mock Shepard more, but the 1MC interrupted their conversation. 

 

_“Attention: five minutes until Mass Relay. All Marines, make your way to Deck C briefing room immediately.”_

 

**“Oh don’t think this gets you off the hook, I’m going to come back to _this,”_** Biggie concluded.

 

* * *

 

Hackett may as well have given her an early birthday present. Lilith Johnes had spent her career of over a decade hunting the Alliance’s worst enemies. She’d seen more active combat that most others her rank, but nearly her entire career had been spent under someone else’s direct command. Even when Lilith was put in command of a unit, it was part of a closely controlled task force. 

 

_Now,_ however, Hackett had given her a long stretch of leash. The VERGECOM units would operate semi-independently and autonomously, converging for joint operations, but largely at the will of the MSOC’s commander. Each of the MSOT leaders had been picked from the most ruthless and effective officers in the Corps, and as such were trusted to pick their own targets. 

 

Though she hadn’t been the one to do it, each company’s marine’s _had_ been hand picked. After skimming through the service records of those in MSOC Delta, she was exceedingly pleased with what she had to work with. The Company’s MSOTs were well balanced, with essential elements of team cohesion present in each; Hackett and his aides had outdone themselves. She had pressed the wily old Admiral sharply on _how much_ control she had over the ship, one such question being whether or not she could overrule the ship’s executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Isaac Gorney. The man was lower rank, and position than Lilith, but had _far_ more experience guiding and commanding naval vessels than her stint at SWCOT had afforded her. Still, Hackett maintained that she was the _Marathon’s_ captain, and had autonomy—a fact that was still setting in for her.

 

The 51 Marines that made up the _Marathon’s_ MARDET were all crammed into one of the frigate’s briefing rooms, at Johnes’ order. She had yet to call any kind of briefing to order yet, and instead was allowing the marines to talk amongst each other while she waited for stragglers struggling to find their way through the ship. The room was shaped like a half-circle, with five rows of 10 seats each, and a few along the wall for anyone leading the briefing. 

 

To the front and left of the room Lilith could see that the Alliance’s up-and-coming ‘Lion of Elysium’, 2nd Lieutenant Jessica Shepard. Lilith had done her due diligence, reading the personnel file for each of her new marines—Shepard’s had been quite storied. She was seated with her Staff Sergeant in MSOT Alpha, Sergeant Kendra Biggie, and Lilith already knew from the Lieutenant’s file that the two had worked together previously. _They seem close, hopefully that means they work together well in combat._

 

**“Alright, listen up chucklekfucks,”** she began, her sharp, hoarse voice cutting through the dull murmur of the room efficiently. **“This isn’t any of your first times being transferred, so I don’t figure we need to sit on the floor and share our names.”** That drew a slight laugh from the mottled cast of soldiers sitting around her, and loosened some of the tension built up in Lilith’s stomach. 

 

**“I’ve spoken with most of you already, but for those who haven’t talked to me and can’t read a damn transfer order, I’m Commander Johnes. I’d give you a prepared state from the Defense Department on VERGECOM’s purpose, or our mission, but as it turns out I have something better.”**

 

Lilith stepped out from around her podium, and activated the room’s central holoprojector. It was displaying a map of the Verge, but tightened in on a single massive planet in the Viper Nebula. **“This shit stain is Darrah, it’s about twice the size of Earth, but as dry and dusty as an MRE cracker-“** she was interrupted mid sentence by one of the marines raising his hand. Staff Sergeant Mitchell Potter, MSOT Charlie’s number two, was waving his hand in the air like a child, with a shit-eating grin on his face. **“This is the Marine Corps, not Primary School, Potter, spit it out.”**

 

The man had to struggle not to crack a laugh as he formulated his question into words, **“What if we’ve never been to Earth, ma’am?”**

 

**“That’s your own damn fault,”** she retorted, eyes rolling back. **“The planet’s size isn’t mission critical, we’re not mounting an invasion, just a rescue mission.”**

 

**“Rescue ma’am?”** This from Lieutenant Jessica Pindea, Bravo’s leader. **“I was under the impression that Viper Nebula was Hegemony space… was there a scientific colony there?”**

 

Johnes shook her head, breathing a silent laugh. **“Negative, we’re—uh,”** she was trying to find the diplomatic way to word their mission. **“We’re providing exfil for a MARSOC expeditionary unit.”**

 

A moment of silence filled the air, and it was clear from the look on her face that Pindea was trying to find a way to phrase her question again, more directly. Every unit had the stringent, by-the-books member—it was looking like Pindea would be hers. 

 

A voice cut that _wasn’t_ Pindea’s cut through the room before the woman could reiterate her question. **“It’s pretty clear we were doing some shit that we weren’t supposed to be doing, and we got caught with our pants around our ankles.”** Johnes glanced to identify the new speaker, and found Jessica Shepard sitting upright and facing Pindea; the latter had now gone mute.

 

**“Thank you,”** Lilith nodded to Shepard, **“Lieutenant Shepard is correct, I’m not sure _what_ they were doing, but Hackett passed this directly to us. If operating out of Alliance Space is a _concern,_ Lieutenant Pindea, feel free to let me know.” **The implicit: _‘and I’ll see to your immediate transfer’_ went unspoken. To Johnes’ surprise, Pindea didn’t inch up in offense, or appear unsettled at all.

 

**“No problem ma’am,”** Pindea replied curtly, and seemed to have nothing else to add. 

 

Lilith gave the younger woman a respectful nod, and then returned to the brief at hand. **“This shouldn’t be too complicated, but I’m not saying it’s going to be easy.”** She tapped at the holographic readout of the planet to show a tactical mockup of the situation. **“What we have is one MSOT swamped behind enemy lines. We are unsure what disabled their shuttle, but we have confirmed three KIA, and 3 more wounded as of two hours ago. They’re dug in around their downed shuttle, but the Hegemony’s troops are closing in. Our job is to _change_ that.” **She tapped again, and the display zoomed out to encompass both Darrah and their position near Arcturus. **“We’re headed there now. When we drop out of the relay on their end I want you ready to bring the fucking heat.”**

 

* * *

 

**“The Commander didn’t do the situation justice….”** The commentary was muttered by Sergeant Ben Holmes, the team lead for one of Shepard’s three tactical elements. The entirety of MSOT Alpha was shoved inside a UT-40 Kermode Troop Lander, and Holmes, like Shepard, had pressed towards the front to get a visual on what they were walking into. 

 

The battle raging beneath them was slow but brutal. At least 70 batarian troops were entrenched around the downed Alliance shuttle, with a kilometer of no-man’s-land between the two sides. Instead of advancing, the batarians were bombarding the Alliance position with salvo after salvo of mortar fire. Each round kicked up a storm of dust and fire around the the downed shuttle, but at present the _Marathon’s_ marines hadn’t been able to establish communication with the trapped marines. 

 

Oddly enough, there hadn’t been any reinforcements above the planet when they arrived; as it seemed, the batarians hadn’t expected them. That only made things easier for their approach, but from the time the trio of shuttles departed the _Marathon_ forward, it was an entirely different game. They were coming in under the cover of night, though that did little to dull the roar of the Kermodes’ engines. 

 

The darkness did allow for confusion as to _how many_ transports the Alliance had, and where exactly they were. While Bravo Team and Charlie Team mounted a joint assault, Alpha Team would spear through a small point in the Hegemony line to reach the downed marines. 

 

The sound of garbled static from the transport’s console brought Shepard’s attention back to her surroundings. The sound was coming from an incoming battle-net transfer. **“What’s going on?”** Shepard shouted over the loud roar of the shuttle, wishing that she’d put her helmet on already.

 

**“Transmission from Charlie, ma’am. They’ve taken small arms fire, and are breaking off with Bravo to further capture Hegemony attention. We’re breaking away in thirty seconds.”**

 

Shepard nodded briskly, and withdrew to the compartment with the rest of the marines. **“Alright, helmets on,”** Shepard once again pierced the roar inside the shuttle, while picking her own helmet up to convey the message visually. The other fifteen marines went about following her example by pulling on their own helmets, and the shuttle became lit by the eerie back-glow of the marines’ HUDs. 

 

Now inside her pressurized, and noise-cancelled helmet, Shepard could think and communicate more clearly. Instead of audibly shouting above the din outside, her voice would travel through the battle-net’s platoon channel. **“Charlie’s transport is taking small arms fire, so they’re splitting off with Bravo now. It’s just us, and we’re nearing touchdown. Dismount as fast as you can move it when we arrive, we don’t know what kind of AA the Hegemony has.”**

 

Shepard clenched her teeth hard, before relaxing enough to speak directly to the pilot. **“Try to establish contact with the ground team again.”**

 

The young sailor nodded, and then turned back to his display while reaching for the side of his headset. **“Marine Expeditionary unit this is _SSV Marathon_ Alpha Team inbound for evac, do you copy? Over.”**

 

After half a minute of dead silence, he shook his head sharply and turned back to Shepard. **“Sorry ma’am, nothing. We suspect their comms got damaged between their SOS and our change of course.”**

 

Shepard’s face twisted into a grimace behind her visor, and she started working the odds out that the marines were still alive. _Not good._ Suddenly she felt an armored shoulder jostle into her own. She spun place only to find Kendra Biggie standing beside her. **“You ready to go, War Hero?”**

 

Shepard jostled her friend back, rolling her eyes in response to the joke. **“Is annoying me before a fight some kind of strategy?”**

 

**“No, it’s just fun.”** Despite her levity, Kendra joined Shepard in silent preparation after the remark. Aside from the roar of the engines, an anticipatory silence overtook the entire cabin. The sudden shift of the lights to an ominous red warned the marines that they were ten seconds out, and then there was the bone-rattling scrape of the shuttle touching down while still moving. 

 

One of the shuttle’s entire side panels slid apart, allowing the troops to exit en masse. The marines wasted no time in pouring out of the shuttle, while also dividing into their three tactical elements. Shepard was left with Biggie, her radio operator, Corporal Rinaldo Pere, and the team’s corpsman Lance Corporal Kyran Cervantes. 

 

With the marines all hunkered down to the craggy stone, and the Kermode departed for a safer position, Shepard began to sweep her binoculars over the point where Bravo and Charlie were supposed to be assaulting. For a moment she thought something might’ve gone wrong, but then she saw the brilliant flashes of Alliance artillery, and the gloom of flame as it tore into the batarian line. 

 

**“Elements one and two,”** she hissed into the battle-net, **“follow my lead to advance on the enemy position. Element three, remain behind for overwatch.”**

 

A series of clicks came over the line from the lead of each tactical element, wordlessly conveying their acknowledgement. Still hunched down to avoid detection, Shepard briskly began to cut across the rocky landscape between her and the enemy. Biggie was on her six, with Peer and Cervantes forming their own pair. 

 

Two brilliant flashes came from behind her, followed quickly by the drop of two nearby batarian sentries. **“You ever wonder why they didn’t just finish the marines off?”** This from Biggie.

 

**“Not the best time for those thoughts, Big’,”** Shepard hissed back, while crossing past the downed guards. **“But yeah, I’m curious.”**

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Codex:
> 
> 1MC: 1 Main Circuit is the term for the ship-wide circuit aboard Systems Alliance Naval vessels. The 1MC allows for the transmission of alerts, orders, and information to all areas of the ship, and it is loud enough that all can hear it.
> 
>  
> 
> MARSOC: Marine Special Operations Command
> 
>  
> 
> MSOC: Marine Special Operations Company
> 
>  
> 
> MSOT: Marine Special Operations Team
> 
>  
> 
> MARDET: Marine Detachment
> 
>  
> 
> UT-40 Kermode: The UT-40 Kermode is an older shuttle / troop lander designed and used primarily by the System Alliance, as well as other primarily-human organizations. It lacked the technological advancement of later models, such as the UT-47 Kodiak, but makes up for it in physical advantages. The Kermode has thicker shielding than the Kodiak, but also a larger crew and cargo area, as it lacks the space required for the Kodiak’s superior drive and specialized systems.
> 
>  
> 
> The UT-40 uses element-zero engines, standard thrusters, and can has stabilizing arms that can deploy a standard powered rotor that takes over in the event of drive failure. The UT-40 is a monument to a different time in human innovation, before the Alliance and its partnered contractors fully trusted relying on element-zero power.
> 
>  
> 
> VERGECOM: Regional Systems Alliance command with specific authority / jurisdiction over the Skyllian Verge.


	6. No Man's Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay getting this out to you guys, but I had some family matters come up and a serious writer's block. Hopefully I'll get some more updates out soon. :)

There had originally been six batarian guards protecting the mortar launcher. The rearmost two had already been picked off by one of element three’s riflemen—either Sergeant Matteo Gibb, or Corporal Julia Cortez. Shepard slowly crept forward, past the two fresh corpses and closer to the remaining four batarians. She reached to the small of her back and withdrew her shotgun. Its collapsable barrel began unfolding while she drew it, and she cradled it to her stomach.

“Charging in three,” Shepard hissed into the comm.

“On your six, Shep,” Biggie confirmed.

While mentally she counted to three, a corona of blue energy began to wrap itself around Shepard’s body. Her eyes stared at the batarian in the center, and she visualized the area right in front of him. When her count reached three, Shepard sprang forward. The biotic energy she’d been summoning erupted, forming a conduit of brilliant blue light from where she had been standing, to right in front of the guard. Shepard’s body seemed to stretch out as she charged into the unsuspecting enemy. 

Blue energy exploded around the group, knocking three of the four on their backs, and stunning the fourth. Shepard’s shotgun erupted into the only batarian still standing, hyper-propelled slugs tearing apart his chest and gut. Blue blood spurted from the surprised soldier as he fell backwards. By now one of the batarians had begun struggling to his feet, but Shepard cut him short with another blast of her Katana. The alien’s head vanished in a gory spray of blue blood and bone. 

Beside her, another of the soldiers had gotten back up, but a burst of assault rifle fire sent him back down. Biggie was closing the distance between the two of them, her rifle raised to finish off their assailants. She likewise dealt with the fourth and final batarian, leaving them momentarily in the clear. 

“You think they got a message off?” She asked.

“Not a chance,” Shepard reassured. “I charged in before they even knew anything was happening.”

“Copy,” Biggie acknowledged.

Shepard moved swiftly through what had been their enemy’s position. There were some basic tents set up for them to rest in, a few crates of supplies, and the expected mortar launchers. “Bravo, make sure that mortar isn’t going to give the Alliance any trouble in the future,” Shepard commanded.

“Aye ma’am,” came the reply of element two’s team lead, Corporal Anne Warren. A petite-built woman, a few inches shorter than Shepard. She had a slight frame, but was one of the meanest techs Shepard had ever seen, and could wreak havoc with her L2 implant. Dim, yellow shoulder-mounted lamps shone over the enemy camp, sweeping for anything else of interest. 

“Mustang-actual, this is Overwatch, do you copy? Over.” Came Sergeant Emma Larson’s voice over Shepard’s comms, interlaced with bursts of static. 

_“_ Copy, this is Mustang-actual, what do you have for me Overwatch? Over.” Shepard replied.

“Our infrared scopes are picking up heat signatures in those nearby tents. I think some of the lazy blink shits are asleep still. Over.”

“Copy, Overwatch,” Shepard replied, managing to keep a straight face. “I’ll check on it. Mustang-actual out.”

She noticed the soft ping come through her helmet’s audio, meaning that Larson had marked the specific tents. She headed her shotgun, and slowly approached the nearest of those tents. 

The closer she drew to the tent’s opening, she more clearly she could see the thermal signature Larson had reported. Shepard slowly pushed aside one of the flaps, and saw a batarian asleep on his stomach. Nearby the alien was a pile of armor and weapons, haphazardly strewn across the tent likely when he’d last gone off-duty. The thunderous, staccato roar of her shotgun ended his life without the man ever awaking. Three more tents, three more corpses. 

She emerged from the last of the tents, and began moving back towards the center of the enemy position. She noticed that Kendra Biggie had been standing halfway between the other marines and the tents, waiting for her. Wordlessly, her number two fell in step behind her, and followed Shepard to the others. Even from this distance, Shepard could see that the mortar had been blown to hell, and definitely wouldn’t be operable anymore.

“Orders ma’am?” She asked, as they neared the rest of the marines. 

Shepard looked off in the direction of their downed marines. There was a kilometer of open, exposed space between them. Shepard pursed her lips, and turned back to her marines. “We get hoofing. We touched down this far out, without any wheels because there’s fear that we wouldn’t be able to make it without the bat’s noticing and shitting on us with anti-armor. We’re gonna have to evac the survivors on foot for a klick, and then we can take them back to the _Marathon_ aboard our Kermode.” She holstered her shotgun behind her back, swapping it for her M-8 Avenger. “Keep ranged weapons drawn, and fan out. We need comm silence during the trek unless there’s an emergency. We don’t know what kind of monitoring the enemy has going.”

A series of static clicks across the channel came, as the marines wordlessly voiced their acknowledgement. The twelve marines spread out to staggered single file line, and they began their journey. The no man’s land was craggy, and hauntingly barren. There were several charred craters spread through the area, with unidentifiable remains lying near some of them. 

“I didn’t realize the marines moved their position…” Kendra muttered aloud to Shepard, standing close enough that the two could hear each other without comms. “Why would the blinks mortar this close though, if it hadn’t been their position?”

For a few paces, Shepard said nothing. But slowly she nodded, eyes flicking between a few of the craters. “Neither did I…” There were six craters now, that she could count, and they were all closer to the batarian side of things. “The reports all said they were rallied around their downed ship. Doesn’t make sense…” 

“Maybe the marines had limited mortars, and fired a few rounds? Would explain why they didn’t leave cover to come any closer,” she offered.

Shepard pinched her lips into a displeased line as she counted the seventh crater. “Perhaps… Though there wasn’t any mention of it.”

Kendra didn’t have any immediate response. Instead, she followed Shepard’s attention in glancing between the blast sites. For another half minute there was silence between them, but then a high pitched whine cut through the silent air. Shepard felt the hair immediately stand up on the back of her neck as she wheeled around. The whine only lasted a second, and then came the deafening explosion from beneath the ground. 

Dirt and rock flew everywhere, chased by a sudden plume of flame. Lying near the new crater was one of _her marines,_ Lance Corporal Arjun Boyle. His legs were both blown away above the knee, and he was letting out a deathly scream. “Contact!” Biggie cried as she dropped to a crouch, as did the other marines. 

“Cervantes!” Warren shouted out in a panic, “We need a goddamn corpsman over here!” She was standing over her fallen squad-mate, muttering promises that he would be alright. 

Shepard was crouched down, slowly combing through the area, but quickly coming to a fearful realization. Before the words could leave her mouth, they were rocked by another thunderous explosion behind her. Corporal Heath Jackson, an N3 only a little younger than Shepard, was lying motionless in the center of the crater—what was left of him.

She swallowed hard, and opened the team channel. “We’ve got mines, that’s why they didn’t close in. I don’t know how far into the minefield we are, but we have to keep moving. We’re sitting fucking ducks out here.” 

She glanced over the remaining able-bodied marines, picking out the strongest amongst them. “Holmes, get Boyle. Ruiz, you get Jackson. We’ll treat their injuries as best we can when we reach safety.”

“I’ve got Boyle,” Warren cut in, her voice icy. 

Shepard nodded silently, and turned to look back at Sergeant Holmes. “Alright, the two of you can take care of Jackson.” She knew the marine was dead, from the first look she’d gotten at his remains. She’d seen plenty of death in the field, death from gunshots, death from stabbings, and death from explosion. There was a motionlessness to a corpse that was hard to find elsewhere, and she’d seen it. 

The two men gave echoing affirmatives, and hefted Jackson’s charred body between them. Cervantes was still rapidly applying medi-gel to the exposed, burnt flesh on the man’s legs, even after Warren had hefted him over her shoulder with the aid of biotics. 

They had only been mobile again for three minutes when Shepard heard the familiar high pitched whine. This time, years of training and honing her reflexes paid off. She dropped to the ground and spun around, projecting the fastest biotic barrier she could, while also throwing the marine who had triggered the mine. 

An instant after she’d telekinetically thrown the man into the air, the ground where he’d been standing erupted with flame. A brilliant blue field burned around the area, walling the flames and plumes of propelled dirt off from the other marines. 

Her heart was beating fiercely in her chest. A glance at her bio-monitor read 120-bpm, and a thin layer of sweat had formed over her face. Still, none of her marines had been injured in the blast. _She had saved them this time._ There were two more close calls like that, even with each of them walking as carefully as they could. Both times one of the biotics on the team was able to step in and defend against the blast. Only fifteen minutes had passed since they first set out, but to Shepard it might as well have been an hour. 

They marched further, climbing a natural ridge of rock that would give them a view of the last stretch between them and the ship. Starring up at them from a couple dozen meters away was a charred, smoking shuttle. There were marines tucked in and around it, though they didn’t seem to notice them. Suddenly, Shepard caught the green glint of a night vision scope, and an amplified filtered voice shouted into the night air. “Don’t move!”

Her upper body swung around towards the voice, one arm reaching for her shotgun but hesitating on actually drawing it. “I am Lieutenant Shepard of the 103rd. We’re here to rescue you, but you better drop that _goddamn_ rifle,” she bit back. Her voice sounded like cool steel.

She saw the man’s rifle lower, and he muttered an apology. “Sorry ma’am, little jumpy…”

“You’re about to learn sorry if you don’t tell me those goddamn landmines out there weren’t yours,” Shepard bit back, a little too aggressive. Her training had taught her to remain more composed, but she was running hot from the incident with the mines. She was tearing towards the man, while the two injured marines from earlier were carried into cover. 

The man remained silent, but as she got closer she could make out more than just the glow of his visor and rifle. He was wearing matte black Alliance Marine armor, but pulled his helmet off as she got closer. He had close cut black hair, with a dark shadow of stubble across his face, and several streaks of dried blood. “Apologies, I’m Lieutenant Commander Hank Corvis, we got a bit jumpy. We didn’t know if anyone was really comin’.”

Shepard snarled an unamused frown as she closed the final gap between them. “I didn’t ask a goddamn thing about you pointing the guns at me. I wanna know who’s mines those were!” She stabbed a finger at the no man’s land. 

“Lieutenant, do you need a minute to gather yourself. I understand you’ve got wounded on your hand.” He had a thick rural accent, likely raised on one of the colony farms. It stood out as condescending to Shepard, but not in an overt way.

“Negative on that,” she replied coldly. “The Admiral put us in charge until we get back within the safety of an Alliance bulkhead in deep-space.” 

If Corvis was bothered by this, he didn’t show it. Instead he just nodded slowly. “Understood, Lieutenant. In that case, yeah they was ours.” 

Shepard’s rage grew at how casually the man admitted that they were his mines. _As if there was nothing wrong with them being friendly mines._ Her eyes bored into Corvis, and for a second she considered hitting him in the face—but knew that would be difficult to explain to higher ranking officers. “What made it seem like a good idea to not mention that in any reports? That you _had_ mines or that you planned to use them?”

“We’ve been out of comms for hours, we didn’t know anyone was comin’. We were attemptin’ to hold the enemy back, until we could destroy our equipment,” he attempted to explain. 

“No,” Shepard countered, “you called for help. Your call for help is the only reason _we’re here_ right now. You could have mentioned you were going to lay _goddamn land mines._ ” She took a deep breath, pulling herself back together before she inspired mutiny in her troops. “We might have lost two good men today, because you didn’t, Lieutenant Commander.” 

Shepard strode past him, but heard the man utter, “I’m real sorry to hear that.” It was his calm, the way nothing seemed to shake him, that ate at her. She was burning with rage, and he was utterly _fine._ She stepped into the blasted out remains of the transport, and began looking around at their status. “Pere,” she said, getting her radio officer’s attention. “Get me a link with the Commander, please.”

“Aye ma’am, I’ll do my best. We’ve been having difficulty with signal,” he replied.The young Lance Corporal found a place to sit down with his gear, and began setting up a small transmitter that would boost their odds of connecting a signal. He worked over it for five minutes or so, occasionally breaking out his omni-tool to adjust it. Finally he turned to her and nodded, “The signal is as strong as I can get it, ma’am. You’re connected through to the Commander.”

Shepard gave him a crisp nod in return, and her eyes focused in the distance while she spoke to Johnes. “Commander, this is Shepard, do you copy? Over.”

“I hear you loud and clear, Shepard, what’s the situation? Over.”

“Shit hit the fan, ma’am. We hid a stretch of landmines and have one injured and,” she turned to the corpsman frantically working over Boyle, glancing between him he and Jackson. Cervantes just shook his head. “One Injured and one KIA. Over.”

“Shit,” Johnes bit out. Her voice sounded winded, and Shepard could hear bursts of weapons fire in the background when she spoke. “Have you reached the survivors? Over.”

“We have, ma’am. Evac’ing them by foot is no longer an option, but I have a shuttle inbound to do an emergency pickup. Over.”

“Get it done, Lieutenant. You’re doing well,” she replied. “Johnes out.”

Shepard was left in the dim light of the downed transport, illuminated only by emergency clamp-on lights, and glowing control boards. 

“Pere, you gotten through to _Marathon_ for a ride out, yet?” She asked.

“Affirmative, ma’am,” the younger man responded. “Our ride in had to go back up to atmosphere after the drop off. Fifteen minutes until it’s back down to get us, and then pick up Element Charlie.”

She nodded along, the delay making her cringe a little. “That’s an unpleasant time of arrival, but I can work with it.” She clapped Pere on the shoulder as she walked past. Shepard pushed past the plastic curtains that had been hung where the transport’s walls were gone, and out into the night air. This part of the planet was sandy, with wild patches of shrubby grass. In the far distance she could see a few trees, but mostly it was just flat lands, and occasionally stony ridges. 

Shepard was walking towards one of the ridges, to stand and look out over the battle, when her comm came alive. “Lieutenant Shepard,” came Larsen’s tense voice. “You’ve got company. It looks like the batarians noticed those mines. They broke off, and are trailing your path to avoid most of them. Over.”

“ _Fuck!”_ Shepard bit out. She could hold this hill for fifteen minutes, but that was without an enemy force directly pressing on her. Add that in, and she was running the risk of casualties. 

“Got a bit of good news on that news, LT,” Larsen followed up. “They’re leading the pack with a pair of armored trucks, tryna keep your snipers off them.” Her voice sounded a little excited, and Shepard realized where she was heading.

“Except my snipers aren’t over here,” Shepard finished.

“Exactly, ma’am.” Larsen replied.

“Do you have a clear shot on the majority of their forces, Larsen?” Shepard asked.

“We do, ma’am. Permission to fire?”

“Take every shot you’ve got, Sergeant,” Shepard agreed.

“Will do, ma’am.”

There was the familiar click of the frequency closing, and Shepard looked in the direction Larsen had said the enemy was coming from. She could see it now, the trucks with darkened running lights, rolling swiftly through theno man’s land. The concealing darkness that had hidden them was suddenly shattered, however, when a storm of brilliant blue gunfire came from behind them. 

“Listen up!” She called out, “We’ve got company inbound. Our backup spotted them, and they’ve got them engaged.” She turned and picked out one of the marines gathered round. “McCall,” she shouted, to get her attention. “You and Acevedo start working on their armored lead. The rest of you, brace up. It might get really fuckin’ hairy before the shuttles touchdown. If they make it to us before the Alliance does, I want them to have goddamn earned it.”” 

There was a chorus of _‘Yes ma’am,’_ and marines began shuffling to their positions. Shepard moved to look down on the approaching batarian convoy. Their calm, controlled approach had broken. Hegemony soldiers ran to al sides, while squad three laid into them with suppressive fire. Though they were few in number, Shepard could tell already that Larsen and her marines had cut down several of the batarians. 

Small swaths of blue light were suddenly alive on the battle field. Even from here, Shepard could recognize them as portable shield generators. They absorbed round after round of squad three’s weapons-fire without budging. They _wouldn’t_ be able to sustain that level of attack for long, so the batarians would have to prepare themselves. _As long as it took long enough for her ride to get here._

_“Back-blast clear!”_ Shepard heard from a few meters behind her. She turned to see McCall cradling an ML-73 in her arms, with Acevedo beside him. A plume of flame shot out from behind the massive, ungainly launcher, and a rocket blasted through the air. For a few heartbeats there was only the burning light of the missile flying through the air, until it hit one of the batarian trucks. The vehicle wrenched up into the air, and keeled over from the impact. The dark knight was illuminated by the truck’s flames, and its glow she could see soldiers scattering. A few scattered mines detonated, clearing out some of the batarians, while others were taken out by Alliance snipers. 

The other truck had kicked into action, taking off into the darkness with what troops it could carry. Its armored shell withstood the small-arms fire of the marines. “Private McCall,” came Kendra’s steely voice behind her. “Why’s that truck still rolling?” There was a tension that Shepard didn’t usually hear in her jovial friend’s voice. 

“Sorry sar’nt,” McCall offered, her hands steadily working over the rocket. “It takes a minute to reload this one, it’ll be up in minute.” 

Shepard swore under her breath, and took a step back from the action. Out of habit, she touched a hand to the side of her helmet while activating her radio. “Pere, ETA on the damn shuttle?” 

“Two shuttles, ma’am,” he answered, “and seven minutes.”

“Shit,” she hissed out. Walking aimlessly a few more steps to find her words. “Can they push that time any?”

“No, ma’am, I asked. _Marathon_ is having to anchor a distant ways away, to avoid detection and risking an aerial battle. The shuttle’s engines are pressed to max.” 

“Affirmative, thanks Pere,” Shepard replied, stepping back towards the cliff face. Kendra was up McCall’s ass about what was taking so long for the rocket launcher’s to reload. A scout called out to her, waving his hand, “Lieutenant, you’re gonna wanna come see this,” he beckoned. 

Shepard’s heart immediately leapt, the stress compounding inside her, but she approached him. The man handed her a pair of binoculars, and pointed to a spot in the distance. “They’re breaking off their main force, and rolling on squad three,” he explained. She looked where he pointed, and saw that he was right. “They’ll overwhelm them in a few minutes. 

“Why didn’t Larsen call us and ask for help?” Shepard asked, “They have signal, we were speaking before.”

“I don’t know, ma’am,” he replied blankly, and took the binoculars back when she offered them. Shepard had an idea why, but she didn’t like it. She brusquely opened a line to Larsen, and bit into it. “Sergeant, do you know you’ve got a force moving on you?” 

There were several seconds of silence, then came a click and distinctive burst of static as Larsen opened her mic. “Yeah LT, we know.” Shepard could hear the screech of weapons fire from Larsen’s end. “Doing our best to fend ‘em off, just handle the evac, ma’am,” Larsen bit back. Another click came, and this time the line was devoid of the earlier background silence. She’d cut off her radio. 

_“Fuck,”_ Shepard snarled, shaking her hair. Sweaty bands of red hair that had worked loose from her ponytail began bouncing around her face. She pushed the hair back behind her ear with one hand. She spun around, her insides feeling distinctly hollow, until she saw Kendra standing a half-dozen feet away. “Larsen and her team are getting overrun by part of the force that was moving on us.” 

“SOP would say fall back to a safer position and await evac…” Kendra replied skeptically, while closing the distance between them. 

“Yeah, you’d think,” Shepard growled back. “They’re not falling back, she’s content to get swamped making sure we can evac.”

Kendra’s face darkened some, and the two approached the rock outcropping that served as their lookout point. They could see the brilliant blue and red flashes of gunfire from here, and the two opposing sides were drawing closer and closer together. “We go get them then,” Kendra offered.

Shepard looked at her, lips pursed together, and then back towards Larsen’s distant position. “We’d miss our evac,” Shepard surmised.

“We’d miss the one here, but we pick up the shuttle on the other side. Give us a four or five man squad, and we can stir up enough noise to cover them,” Kendra answered. 

They were the words Shepard wanted to hear, she’d just been hesitant to ask her friend to step into a very likely death beside her. “This is the kinda thing you either get awarded for, or killed doing,” Shepard remarked.

“Or both,” Kendra added. Then, with a sly smirk she added, “Lucky for us, we’ve got the Lion of Elysium here.”

“I hope one of them shoots your stupid ass,” Shepard growled back. She turned back towards the other marines and took stock of who was left. It was a morbid task, but their situation was dire. Finally she settled on her backup, “Corporal Warren, grab your two men and come with me.”

For a moment Warren just glared hardly at Shepard, not wanting to abandon her wounded man, but ultimately caved with a brisk nod. As she followed after Shepard, the Marine Sergeant was barking orders over her shoulder to the two able-bodied members of her squad, for them to form up. 

With all men accounted for now, the five-man quickly began to cut through the rocky no-man’s-land. This would either be a heroic rescue, or a suicide mission.


End file.
